


To Carry To Victory

by virdant



Series: A Compendium; A Journey [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dota - Freeform, Friends with Benefits? Friendship is the benefit, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Male Friendship, Pro-Gamers, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, sebastian learns about the power of friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant
Summary: Top Dota 2 player Sebastian jumps at the chance to join professional team the Warblers, best known for their carry player, Blaine Anderson. But Blaine’s changed teams to play on New Directions with his boyfriend Kurt, and Sebastian must reevaluate what it means to be a top Dota player.For Seblaine Week 2020 Day 7: Friends with Benefits
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Series: A Compendium; A Journey [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831429
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15
Collections: Seblaine Week 2020





	To Carry To Victory

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to anis, rose, dowa, and the seblaine discord warbler to warbler who asked for a pro-gamer au ages ago. it's been a while, but i hope this fic (and its sequel) will suffice.
> 
> thank you to every member of seblaine fandom. it's such a joy to participate in seblaine week every year. please enjoy!

* * *

The polite way to start a Dota 2 game was with “Good luck, have fun.”

Sebastian knew that was bullshit. Games weren’t about luck, and they weren’t about fun: not at the professional level. When you were a professional, you did whatever you had to do to win; that was what mattered. Not luck. Not fun.

Sebastian looked at the offer on his screen. He’d played with a few teams recently, just to try it out, if he closed his eyes, he could still see the memory of those games, like watching a replay. Spells, flashing across the screen. The steady sound of a sword swinging. The clink of coins when he landed a last hit.

He’d been waiting for this offer, ever since he’d first heard of this team. It meant he would be moving from Paris to Ohio, a move he’d been avoiding ever since his parents divorced. It would mean moving across the world.

It would be worth it.

He was used to making calculations like this. Dota was all about identifying advantages and disadvantages. Games of Dota were a series of unfair fights. You pressed them when you had the advantage. You disengaged when you didn’t have the advantage. You did anything you had to do to win.

And this would let him win.

Dota was a team game. Sebastian was only one player, but to play a game, he needed a team of five. And winning meant playing with the best team. Winning meant playing with the best players.

Sebastian looked at the offer. Accepting meant he would move across the world. Refusing meant he would stay in Paris. But accepting meant a chance to play with some of the best in the world. Refusing staying here, trying to scrape together a team. There shouldn’t have even been a question about whether or not he would accept the offer. 

Play with Blaine Anderson’s team, or stay here?

It wasn’t a choice.

* * *

“Am I seeing this right?” Sebastian demanded as he joined the voice chat and was immediately ignored by the other five members, who were in the middle of a hectic team fight and only had the energy to spare to shout calls.

“Back back!” Jeff was shouting into the microphone.

“To the front, to the left,” Nick muttered in response.

“Don’t back!” Thad was calling at the same time. 

“Why didn’t you fucking teleport?” Beat’s voice cut through Nick’s voice.

Sebastian clicked through the party members, checking the fight from each of their perspectives. Nick was perilously low on health as he kited back to avoid dying. Thad was making his way to the fight from where he had been roaming to put down wards. Beat was the sole support in the fight, trying to keep Jeff alive as he was stunned over and over.

And the fifth member of their team, the username of _killer_ that made Sebastian pause and click into their voice chat, was none other than Blaine Anderson.

Blaine had been the best core that the Warblers had, leading them to top six in sequential The Internationals, only to forsake the team after another sixth-place finish for surprise top three finisher, New Directions. Sebastian had joined the Warblers, hoping to play with Blaine Anderson, only to realize that the open core spot was because Blaine had jumped ship.

Blaine called, his voice focused and clear through the chatter, “CM.”

Like a unit, the team focused on the Crystal Maiden on the enemy team, picking her off before turning to the rest of the team fight. The brief call turned the messy team into something more practiced, a team used to working with each other.

Sebastian listened to the team settle into something easy and comfortable, Thad taking over the reins of shot-calling, as he called for them to take the throne, Beat playing support with comfortable ease even as he muttered profanity under his breath, Nick, Jeff, and Blaine taking tower after tower as they rushed down mid towards the base.

Nick was the first to break the focus of the team. “What are you doing here, Sebastian?” He switched between his hero, a grizzled old man, and the panda-skinned bear that was his hero’s trademark, with casual ease.

“No talking until we’ve cinched it,” Thad interrupted.

“Practicing without me?” Sebastian drawled. “I see I’ve been replaced.”

“Nobody’s replacing you, Sebastian, shut up,” Thad retorted.

Blaine finished off the enemy throne, sending the screen into a triumphant victory screen amid a fiery pit of destruction. “Well,” he said cheerfully, “that was a blast from the past.”

“Sure you don’t want to come back?” Nick asked hopefully.

“Hey,” Sebastian said mildly. “Are you kicking me already? Low blow.”

“We’ll throw you a pizza party,” Jeff replied wryly. 

“The spot’s all yours,” Blaine said, easily. “I’m happy where I am.”

Beat snorted.

“I _am_ ,” Blaine insisted.

“You’re fucking playing support.”

Sebastian blinked. “Wait. You?”

Blaine had been one of the best farming carries on the scene. He had an uncanny ability to find farm wherever he went, topping net-worth charts even when the Warblers weren’t doing well. He knew how to play his lane, winning even in bad matchups. He picked off roamers, landed last-hits in hectic team-fights, and earned himself his nickname of _killer_ without question.

Delegating somebody like Blaine Anderson into _support_ was asking to lose.

“Are you serious?” Sebastian demanded. “You’re playing support? _You_?”

“New Directions has all of the core roles handled,” Blaine said, patiently. “And I like support.”

Jeff snorted again.

Blaine had been a core player from the start. He could play all roles—everybody at their level could—but made his mark as a core player. There had been a brief time when Nick hadn’t wanted to keep playing as an offlaner—the meta had been notoriously stressful for offlaners, and Nick had always a hankering to be able to farm safely with support—and Blaine had willingly swapped roles. It had been an unmitigated disaster, given that Blaine still ended up with farm, and Nick simply couldn’t keep up with the enemy, leaving their team farm unevenly distributed. It had been an unmitigated disaster, and Sebastian had watched the whole thing unfold, shaking his head the entire time.

“You left to play support,” Sebastian repeated. “Why?”

There was silence on the chat for a bit, and then Blaine said, “I left to play with Kurt.”

* * *

Before Sebastian had joined the Warblers, he had already played a handful of games with Blaine.

He had been playing on the EU servers, still living in Paris. But just like most high-ELO players, he queued for multiple servers, including US East, where Blaine played. But Sebastian didn’t keep as crazy hours as most gamers did, and that meant that he didn’t tend to overlap with Blaine’s regular gaming hours. He’d played plenty of games with Jeff, who didn’t seem to sleep at regular hours in favor of playing games with the European players, but Blaine Anderson remained elusive.

And then the Warblers played a tournament in Germany, and Blaine was on his team in a pub game.

Sebastian liked playing a farming carry. It was one of the easiest ways to win a public game, when you didn’t have faith in your teammates. If you were good enough, you could just farm on your own, and then carry the rest of the team to victory. And Sebastian was very good. He tried to play a farming carry in his games, to save himself the grief of having to support a mediocre carry. But it wasn’t a hardship to support Blaine Anderson, who seemed to anticipate Sebastian’s moves before he could make them. 

It had been the easiest game of Sebastian’s life.

They had wrecked the enemy in their lane, and Sebastian could trust Blaine on his own when he went to help the rest of the team. Blaine emerged halfway through the game with his items farmed, easily picking off stray enemies before engaging in several decisive team-fights and ending the game handedly.

They said their good games in all-chat, and then Sebastian clicked into game history to send Blaine a friend request, only to realize that Blaine had already sent his own.

They hadn’t said a single word, but they had known what to do.

Sebastian wasn’t quite in the pro scene then, just playing at a high-level without any aspirations for going pro, even with the ludicrous amounts of prize money up for grabs if you made it to The International. But playing with Blaine had been incandescent.

He wanted to play with him again.

He was a free agent a week later, looking for a team.

* * *

“Alright,” Sebastian said, after Blaine had left the voice chat. “Did everybody know that Blaine Anderson was playing support now?”

“He’s fucking good at it,” Beat said, supportively. “I’ve seen him in pubs.”

“What team, in their right mind, would put Blaine Anderson on support?”

“I’m sure New Directions knows what works for them,” Thad said, but he sounded doubtful.

“He’s one of the best farming cores ever!”

“Yes.” Jeff managed to convey an entire two months of frustrated intervention attempts in one word. 

“We know,” Nick said. “He used to be our teammate.”

Sebastian shook his head, even though the others couldn’t see him, seeing as they were in Ohio, and he was still in Paris until his visa went through. “Why the hell did he join New Directions anyways?”

Nick’s voice settled into a storytelling cadence. “Sit back and relax, and I will tell you the tale of Kurt Hummel.”

There had been a tournament that Nick hadn’t been able to make. The NA pro scene was an incestuous group, where they all knew each other from too many pub games, even if they didn’t know each other _personally_. Kurt’s name had come up when they were looking for a sub, and he had ended up joining for the tournament.

Normally, Nick and Jeff roomed together, and Blaine roomed with their manager, Wes. But since Jeff barely knew Kurt, and Blaine and Kurt knew each other from playing pubs at similar hours, they suggested that Blaine room with Kurt,

“They slept together,” Thad said, drily.

“We don’t know that,” Beat protested.

“They absolutely fucked,” Nick drawled. 

“How would you know?” Jeff demanded. “You weren’t even there!”

The Warblers had a perfectly good run. They placed fourth, a respectable finish especially given they were playing with a sub. 

“Blaine came back a changed man,” Nick continued with relish. “He was always queuing with Kurt in pubs, playing _support_ of all things, instead of practicing the way he used to. He was all starry-eyed and he was _daydreaming_ during the hero draft.”

“That was once,” Jeff pointed out, “And he also had a cold. I’m pretty sure he was just out of it.”

“Anyways,” Nick continued loudly. “After TI, during the afterparty, Blaine hung out with those New Directions kids, and the next thing we know, he’s signing with New Directions… as their new support player.”

“Wow,” Sebastian said.

“And it’s all because of Kurt!” Nick concluded, “He’s seduced Blaine away with the power of his dick—”

“We don’t know if they slept together,” Beat interrupted.

“They slept together,” Thad repeated.

There was a pause, and Jeff said, “Oh. My turn. Uh, they might have, but I don’t think Blaine’s the type to put-out so easily.”

“And Jeff, of course, was the one who made it possible,” Nick added cheerfully.

“Fuck you,” Jeff said without heat. “I suggested four people. Kurt was only one of them.”

“And if your grandma didn’t almost die, we wouldn’t even need a sub,” Thad pointed out.

Nick gasped dramatically. There was no video, but Sebastian would bet real cash money—and more than a measly $322—that he had a hand clutched to his chest. “I’ll have you know that we thought Gram was on her dying legs.”

“Turned out they were very sturdy legs—like an ox,” Jeff added, to Sebastian.

Nick said, cheerfully, “It was a bit of a scare. But Gram’s still going strong.”

Sebastian made a thoughtful noise. 

So, the only thing keeping Blaine in New Directions, and away from the Warblers, was a lackluster offlaner named Kurt Hummel. Well, Sebastian was easily better—even in a role he didn’t care for—and pretty sure he fucked better too, if it came down to it. It wouldn’t be hard to seduce Blaine back to play with him.

That left what role Sebastian would play, given that Sebastian was currently replacing Blaine—and wasn’t that a thought, Sebastian who hadn’t even made it to TI, trying to replace Blaine, who had led this team to top-six victories multiple times.

Casually, he said, “Suppose Blaine wanted to come back—”

Beat said, awkwardly, “We aren’t going to just _kick_ you.”

“We’d totally kick you for Blaine,” Nick disagreed.

“I’ve known Blaine for five years,” Jeff said, which wasn’t an answer, but said enough.

Thad said decisively, “There’d be a discussion.”

“Just a hypothetical.” And across the Atlantic, Sebastian thought about playing with Blaine, and smiled.

* * *

Gamers weren’t particularly fit, but Blaine Anderson was an exception. He went to a boxing gym regularly, and it didn’t just give him shoulders and biceps, it gave him an ass.

“Blaine!” Nick exclaimed, waving him over to their table at the pub. He was unfairly energetic. Sebastian had just arrived in Ohio and was already discovering that Nick never seemed to flag, even after a day of games. He had been the one to rope the entire team—and Wes and David—out to dinner in Columbus, claiming team bonding was important (now that Sebastian was here) and that the pub had amazing onion rings in the same breath.

“Hey guys,” Blaine said. He was alone. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old.” Nick waved him down. “Sit down and join us!”

“I’m waiting for Kurt.”

“He’s welcome to join us as well.” Wes nodded to a seat. “We’ll pull up another chair. How’s New Directions treating you?”

“It’s great.” He sat. “How’s the Warblers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Thad drawled. “Got a new carry.” He pointed at Sebastian.

Blaine glanced over. “Hey.”

Sebastian smirked back. “Hey yourself, Hot-stuff.”

“I haven’t seen you before—”

“Sebastian Smythe.” He offered his hand for a shake. “We’ve played before.”

Blaine blinked, once, hand in Sebastian’s. “We have?”

He kept his grip firm and secure. “I wouldn’t forget a carry like you, Killer.”

Blaine flushed. “I don’t use that name anymore.”

“Don’t see why you would change it.”

Thad rolled his eyes dramatically.

Blaine said, sheepishly, “Killer’s the thing a 13-year-old would come up with.”

“It suits you. I watched your games.”

Wes interrupted, “Sebastian’s our new One.” He meant position one player, the player who took priority when it came to farming gold and experience.

Blaine blinked, interestedly. “Oh! I thought—”

“Can you imagine trying to get Wes out of his comfortable retirement?” Nick asked, jostling Blaine on the shoulder. 

“I’m very happy being the manager.”

“Seb’s a great carry,” Thad drawled. “We’re lucky Jeff knew about him after you left.”

“I was living in Paris,” Sebastian clarified at Blaine’s increasingly bewildered look. “I played on EU. That’s probably why you didn’t play much with me.”

“Oh!”

“Did you really think they pulled Wes out of retirement?” David chortled. He and Wes had founded the team, but had both retired in favor of coaching and management respectively. Wes had always spent more time keeping the team intact as they travelled, haranguing tournaments to pay their winnings, and David had always liked big-picture strategy over honing his mechanics. It had been easy for them to step down in favor of the current team. But in the early days of the game’s history, Wes had been one of the top farming carries in the game.

“Nobody told me they’d gone to the Warblers,” Blaine said, sheepishly. “I figured Wes just decided to play again.”

Wes shook his head fondly.

“Enough about us,” Nick said cheerfully, shoving the basket of onion rings towards Blaine. “Tell us more about your new team.”

Blaine smiled. “It’s fine. Kurt’s—”

“What about Kurt?”

Sebastian eyed the new boy, who’d just popped up behind Blaine’s shoulder. He was lanky, dressed in unfortunate leopard print. He did not look anything like Blaine. He placed a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, squeezing as he eyed the Warblers grimly.

“—great! I was just telling them how you’re great.” Blaine patted his hand where it clenched on his shoulder. 

Kurt smiled tightly at them. “This was a date, Blaine. Why are we with the Warblers?”

“I ran into them,” Blaine explained. “They said we could join. It’s been a while since we talked—”

“You played a game with them a week ago.”

Blaine frowned. “It was just a pub.”

“You can’t keep playing with them! They aren’t your team anymore! You’ll leak secrets.”

“Oh, yes,” Thad drawled. “Blaine, playing carry in a pub, will leak nefarious secrets about his play as a support.”

Kurt glared at them, squeezing Blaine’s shoulder tightly.

Blaine stood, the chair scraping loudly as he did so. “Hey. We can go.”

He nodded, tightly. “Nice to see you all again,” Kurt said airily.

“Sure,” Thad drawled.

In contrast, Blaine was achingly sincere. “It was great to see you all again—Sebastian.”

Sebastian had risen to his feet. He offered his hand again, and Blaine took it, looking bewildered. “It’s good to meet you in person, Killer.”

“I don’t—”

“You can change your name,” Sebastian said, “but you’ll always be Killer to me.” He sat down again as Blaine gaped at him. “Catch you online.”

* * *

Blaine might have changed his in-game nickname to _songbird_ , but it wasn’t hard to find him in his friend’s list and send a party request. 

Blaine didn’t accept immediately. “Who’s this?”

“Forgot about me already, Killer?”

Sebastian had been playing under the _cognacincoffee_ handle ever since he had made his Steam account eight years ago. It’d had the advantage of making him seem older when he was a child, and now he was too nostalgic to give it up. He’d learned to play under the name, and he’d win TI with the same name. Unlike Blaine—

Blaine was now nicknamed a bland _songbird_ , a vast contrast to his former name of _killer_.

“Sebastian?”

“Got it in one.” Sebastian paused with his hands over the keyboard. “Got time for a game?”

“Shouldn’t you duo with Thad?”

As if. It didn’t take any effort for his fingers to tap out his thoughts. “Thought I’d let you play carry.”

 _songbird_ was typing for a long time.

“Sure.”

* * *

Sebastian had joined the Warblers right after the infamous post-TI shuffle, when teams dropped underperforming players and picked up new members. The discussions started in the middle of the tournament; players of eliminated teams had casual conversations in hallways and hotel lobbies with each other and team managers. The afterparty was always a hotbed of discussions.

Sebastian hadn’t made it to TI; his team hadn’t even made it through the hectic EU open qualifiers. But he was easily the best player on the team, and enough people had taken notice of _cognacincoffee_ that when he announced himself as a free agent during the shuffle, he’d had a handful of tryout offers, most of them for offlane or support roles.

It hadn’t mattered though, the minute he saw the Warbler offer, he knew that was what he was going for. He’d wanted to play with Blaine Anderson for ages. That they were looking for a farming carry was a bonus.

So he had replaced Blaine as their position one player.

Like all players at a high level, he was comfortable with any role. But he’d never enjoyed support, too frustrated with trying to carry a pack of deadweight to victory with little resources, except for that one pub game with Blaine Anderson. With Blaine playing position one—the farming carry role—it was easy to relax and focus on support. He knew what he had to do to help Blaine farm, without even being told. It was easy to drop wards to protect Blaine’s lane, harass the enemy out of his lane, to drop by to secure runes for mid, keeping an eye on hero movements on the mini-map.

Blaine, in response, seemed to relax into Sebastian’s support, farming efficiently. When Sebastian harassed, he focused on farm. When they had the damage to initiate, he moved forward, dealing damage, without even a ping to communicate. 

It was good, watching Blaine take the lead.

“Damn,” Sebastian said into the discord server they were sharing—a new one, since Blaine was no longer in the Warbler’s server. “We’re good.”

“We should be,” Blaine replied, sounding pleased as the enemy throne collapsed to display Victory. “It’d be pretty bad if we weren’t.”

“No.” He paused. “One more?”

“Sure.”

As they queued up for another game, Sebastian said, “You’re the best carry I’ve seen.”

“Thanks.”

“Seriously, what are you doing as a support? You’ve got some crazy farming instincts.”

Blaine said, “I like playing support.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t need to be the center of attention.”

“No, but you deserve it.”

The queue popped, and Sebastian clicked ready, his avatar lighting up with a green outline with a handful of the other players. Blaine’s avatar remained grayed out.

“You going to ready up?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine’s avatar glowed red. “Sorry,” Blaine said. “I’m done.”

Sebastian watched as Blaine left the party. “Something I said?”

“No,” Blaine said, but it sounded hollow. “I just have something to do.”

He disconnected from the voice chat, logged off from steam. Sebastian leaned back in his chair, watching as Blaine went offline.

“Well,” he said to the room as he slid off his headphones to the practice room. “That went well.”

When he turned, it was to five curious pairs of eyes.

* * *

“How was your game with Blaine?” Thad asked.

“I’m watching the replay.” Nick sounded too pleased as he turned to his computer.

“Did you guys win?” Beat asked.

“Did you not see his screen?” Jeff asked.

“What the fuck.” Sebastian stared at them, not sure how to handle an entire team watching his movement when he was used to playing in his room, alone. “Do you all have nothing better to do than to watch me play a pub?”

Thad snorted. “Of course. But you weren’t just playing a pub, were you?”

“How was Blaine?” Nick asked, one headphone off of his ear. He was watching at 1.5x speed, clicking between Sebastian’s perspective and Blaine’s. “His playing was on point.”

Jeff leaned over Nick’s shoulder. “You’d think he’d be out of practice, only playing support on New Directions.”

“Blaine? Not a chance.”

Sebastian raised a brow at Wes, who had just walked into the room that was their practice room. He was eying Nick’s screen. “Is that Blaine?”

“And Sebastian,” Beat said. “He plays a mean support.”

“Mean’s the right word,” Nick agreed. “Pretty aggressive play there, Sebastian.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. 

Wes smiled. “You played a game with Blaine?”

“Do you have nothing better to do than to talk about this?”

“This is actually a team of middle-school girls,” David said cheerfully, nudging Wes out of the way to drop a binder on his own desk. “Gossip raises team morale.”

“I’m pretty sure gossip is supposed to lower morale.”

“Not in this team,” David responded, eying Nick’s screen. “Is that Blaine? You played a game with Blaine?”

“Seriously,” Sebastian snapped. He had joined the team to play Dota, not to gossip. All of this talk of Blaine, who wasn’t even here, was grating. “Why is this such a big deal? It was just a pub. I’m sure you guys play pubs with him all the time.”

There was suddenly tense silence.

“What?”

Wes sighed. “Blaine hasn’t played with any of us since he went to New Directions.”

“I saw him play a pub with you guys. I watched it!”

“That was the only one.” Thad looked grim. “I get that he doesn’t want to play with all of us too often, since we’re not teammates anymore, but he won’t even duo with me or Beat.”

Sebastian stared. “You said you’ve known Blaine for five years!” He turned to Jeff. “He seriously hasn’t played a single pub with you?”

Jeff shook his head.

“What the fuck.”

Wes looked at the game playing out on Nick’s screen. “If he’s playing with you…” he said, slowly.

Sebastian looked at Nick’s screen. “He give any reason he won’t play with you guys?”

“I have suspicions.” Jeff coughed, a suspicious sound that sounded like Kurt, from where he was still draped over the back of Nick’s chair. “But that’s it.”

Blaine’s hero on the screen split into a half-dozen illusions, gold and shimmering, as he dodged an enemy stun. Sebastian’s hero followed up with a nova that slowed the enemy, making it easy for Blaine to turn around and reinitiate. His play was impeccable, as usual. Sebastian had always liked watching Blaine play, back when he was in the Warblers.

What could cause Blaine to stop playing with his team?

* * *

Another week, and Sebastian had his suspicions.

The Warblers might have been a top team—consecutive top-six finishes weren’t the best, but they weren’t something to sneer at, especially given that their roster remained relatively unchanged—but their success didn’t show how _obnoxious_ playing with them was. 

They were settling into persistent scrims in preparation for tournaments, and Sebastian was learning about every single one of their awful habits.

Thad, who played hard support, was also the shot-caller on the team. As the hard support, he was usually paired with Sebastian in lane to help get Sebastian gold and experience. But he wasn’t a particularly inspired support player, and his calls were questionable. Sebastian wasn’t used to taking orders from somebody, especially somebody who had no idea what Sebastian was capable of. It was galling to listen to Thad, who never seemed to understand what was happening. 

Beat, who played a roaming support, was always cursing. He muttered under his breath perpetually, and when he wasn’t playing pubs with push-to-talk, his steady beat of profanity was like a drum in Sebastian’s ear. He’d tried bringing it up, but it didn’t seem to help; Beat was still muttering fuck every time they played a game.

Nick and Jeff had known each other for years, and it showed. Nick played mid-lane carry, position 2 carry, and Jeff played off-lane, but despite that, they were always bantering back and forth. Nick would say something, and Jeff would drawl something back, and then they’d go off, the two of them dropping critical information hidden in inane conversation. Nobody else seemed bothered by the chatter, but Sebastian had to bite down the urge to tell them to shut up.

Even Wes and David, who weren’t players on the team, but helped run the team, were frustrating. Wes was their manager, one of the old guard who had stopped playing as he had gotten too old to keep up. He was perfectly good at arranging scrims and organizing, and he had gotten Sebastian to Ohio with little difficulty, but he kept himself separate from the team, leaving the actual in-game coaching to David, who seemed to care more about making sure everybody was having a good time than making sure they played well.

How had Blaine managed to drag them into top-six finishes? Blaine was an even better carry than he let on, if he knew how to handle this mess of a team.

And Sebastian would have to do the same, if they wanted to have a chance at The International.

* * *

The most important tournament of the year was The International. Held once a year, the prize pool was only growing larger, crowd-funded into ridiculously bloated amounts. Just making it to the main event was enough for teams to recuperate investments. But more important than the prize money was the pride that came from a top finish.

Making it to The International was the goal of every team, and the path to TI was through a series of minors and majors throughout the year. With the season just started, and a new patch released, the Warblers were busy practicing and scrimmaging. In addition, they were expected to practice on their own in pubs, in order to learn the ins-and-outs of the ever-evolving meta.

They were playing yet another qualifier, the five of them settled at their desks, eyes focused on their screens. Wes and David watched the game play out on the television, David taking notes on his laptop. It had been a long day already, and nerves were fraying as Sebastian’s lane went badly, Thad leaving him alone to help Jeff and Nick, Beat playing a jungling support that did jack all against Sebastian’s lane opponent.

“Can we take this fight?” Jeff asked as he was jumped by the enemy team. He kited back, trying to buy time for Beat and Thad to counter-initiate.

“No,” Sebastian snapped back.

“We have to fight it,” Thad said. “Go in.”

“I have _no farm_.”

“Why don’t you have any farm?”

“I don’t know, maybe because Thad abandoned me to play a losing lane?”

“Oh, it’s my fault you can’t farm?”

“Yeah, Harwood, it is.”

“Fuck you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian shook his head, ignoring Thad, farming jungle camps as quickly as he could. “I’m not joining this fucking fight, not when I’ll fucking feed.”

“Maybe if you had farm.”

“Well I fucking don’t, alright?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Jeff snapped. His hero died an ignoble death, the fight a mess thanks to their squabbling. “Get your farm, Sebastian. Thad, let’s give him space. Call good fights.”

Sebastian grit his teeth. There was unspoken commentary that _Blaine_ would have gotten farm in a losing situation. Blaine probably would have—there was a reason Sebastian appreciated Blaine’s play as a carry…

They won the game, but it was sloppier than it should be. Sebastian managed to farm his items and come back, but everybody was curt and snappy over voice, and Sebastian’s pings were more aggressive than they needed to be. David’s face was grim as Sebastian pulled off his headset and stalked out.

Sebastian splashed water on his face. He’d opened the door and was about to walk back when he heard it.

“Not as good as Blaine,” Wes was saying in the kitchen.

“Don’t compare them,” David replied. He sounded tired. He was turning a bottle of water over and over in his hands. “We can’t expect Sebastian to play like Blaine. We have to give him time.”

“You’ll have to talk to him. He didn’t listen to the call.”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t strong enough to take the fight. Maybe that was a reasonable response.”

“Shouldn’t have reacted the way he did, though.”

“It was bad communication.” David took a ragged breath. He put the bottle down. “We can’t expect him to be Blaine though. We’ll have to adapt to his style.”

Wes sighed. 

“Do you know why Blaine left?”

“You know as much as me.”

There was a grim silence. Sebastian walked past the kitchen without saying anything. The rest of the team was in various states of rest, fiddling on their phone or browsing reddit. They didn’t acknowledge him, still tense after the terrible game. Sebastian took his seat, pulling his headset back over his head.

Blaine was the best carry that the Warblers had ever seen. Losing Blaine had been a blow, no matter how good Sebastian was. And Sebastian didn’t join the Warblers to lose.

Blaine was online.

He wasn’t sure what drove him to open up a chat, wasn’t sure what made him invite him, wasn’t sure what made him stop before he invited him to play a pub game, what made him type instead: “so, i could really use some advice…”

* * *

Blaine laughed over his coffee, throwing his head back. Sebastian smirked into his coffee. “Did Nick _really_?”

“Really,” Sebastian confirmed. It had only taken a few stories of Blaine’s old teammates’ antics to loosen him up from the tense bundle of nerves he had been when he’d shown up at the Lima Bean. It wasn’t a hardship to talk about how Nick locked himself in the bathroom, or when Beat tried to drink Wes’ coffee. “So.” He leaned forward. “Enough about the Warblers. What’s up with you, Killer?”

Blaine laughed. “I don’t use that name anymore.”

“You should. That game we played—”

“It was just a pub.”

“You were brilliant.” He leaned forward to place his hand on Blaine’s.

Blaine looked at it, but he didn’t shake it off. “Listen, I have a boyfriend.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“No, I—” Blaine looked at him. “I really care about him.”

Blaine’s face was set. Sebastian looked at him, and smiled, easily. “Sure.” He didn’t move his hand.

Blaine’s hand twitched.

“How’s playing support for him?”

Blaine looked at him. “You’re going to tell me I’m wasting my time, playing support when I should be playing carry.”

“Hey.” Sebastian leaned back. “You’re a _killer_ carry. But if you really want to play support…”

Blaine looked at him.

He shrugged. “You do you, _Killer_.”

“Don’t call me that.” Blaine looked down, and then back up at him. “I don’t use that name anymore.”

Sebastian thought of how easy it was, following Blaine’s lead, watching his mind click away as easily as he moved throughout the map farming creeps, watching him take seemingly impossible teamfights and turn them around. Playing with Blaine had been wonderful. Playing with Killer had been incandescent. He couldn’t think of anything better, and that almost brought a grimace to his face, thinking of the Warblers.

“You’ll always be Killer to me.”

In the end, Sebastian never did ask Blaine for any advice.

* * *

With only three Majors leading up to The International, every tournament mattered. There wasn’t time to learn to play together before they were going for tournaments. Wes and David put together a practice schedule to get them used to playing as a team, and encouraged them to play together during their individual practice times as well.

They had something going for them. In a few weeks, it felt less like Sebastian was replacing Blaine, and more like they were a team in their own right. They fought their way through qualifiers, and each game made them a little better at playing together. Thad stopped questioning Sebastian’s judgements on his hero, and Sebastian decided that Thad’s view of the whole game wasn’t too bad. Beat muttered under his breath when he played, and Sebastian practiced tuning it out, as well as Nick and Jeff’s back-and-forth banter.

And in his free time, he played with Blaine.

Blaine had been quiet for two whole weeks after they got coffee, leaving quickly after checking his phone and making excuses. Sebastian wasn’t willing to write it off as a failure, but he was willing to give Blaine a bit of time before he tried again. But before he could send another party invite, Blaine invited him to play a pub.

“And here I thought you were avoiding me,” Sebastian had said.

“I’ve been busy,” he said.

“Busy whipping your new team into shape?”

“The New Directions are good.”

“Hm.” Sebastian had watched the New Directions’ games at The International last year. He hadn’t been particularly impressed, watching Rachel Berry drag them into the top three by the skin of her teeth. He certainly hadn’t been impressed with Kurt Hummel.

Blaine entered them into the queue. “They are.”

“Let’s not debate it.” Sebastian adjusted his headset, waiting for the queue to pop. “What brings you to my corner of the world?”

“We live in the same city.”

“Semantics.” Sebastian kept his voice light and easy, scrolling aimlessly through reddit. “Why aren’t you playing with your boyfriend?”

“Kurt’s busy.”

“Oh?”

“He’s meeting with a friend.”

“So I’m the replacement.”

“You aren’t a replacement,” Blaine protested. He sounded sincere, even through the internet. “I like playing with you, Sebastian.”

“Just not when your boyfriend is around.”

“Kurt’s…” He paused, and the queue popped with a sonorous gong. Sebastian clicked accept, and watched Blaine’s profile icon light green as well. “Kurt thinks it’s bad practice if I’m playing with the others. He’s got a point.”

“How does he have a point?”

“Well, it’s falling back on old habits, right? When I should be practicing with the team?”

“It’s a pub.” Sebastian rolled his eyes as the draft started. “You could play pubs in your sleep.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Sebastian didn’t try to persuade him. “What do you want to play, Killer? You play a mean PL.” He’d always enjoyed watching Blaine play Phantom Lancer on streams.

“I thought I’d play support. Get some practice.”

“In a pub?” Sebastian snorted. “What practice are you going to get? Pick a carry, Killer, or I’ll pick one for you.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Don’t try me.”

But Blaine had picked a carry, and they won that game, and all of the others they played together that day. They’d lost a handful since that day, but had settled into a routine of playing pubs together. He declined invites when Kurt was around, but Kurt spent much of his time out with the rest of the team, leaving Blaine behind to play with Sebastian.

“Heard you’re going to the Summit next month,” Blaine said cheerfully as he connected to the voice chat today. “Congrats.”

“You aren’t going?”

“Kurt didn’t want to do it; he thinks we should be practicing for the Major.” Blaine readied up. “We dropped out of The Summit qualifier.”

“He pulled out early?” Sebastian replied, “before even finishing?”

Blaine let out an undignified snort. “Don’t make that face.”

Sebastian grinned. “What face?”

“That face.” Blaine laughed back. “Your eyes scrunch up when you make dirty jokes.”

Sebastian affected innocence. “What joke? I was just commenting on your qualifier matches.”

“I know you, Sebastian.” Blaine’s voice had a smile in it. “You’re pretty proud of that innuendo. I bet you’re smirking your ass off.”

“Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?”

A pause, and then Blaine said, “I wish,” his voice light.

“We’d be happy to have you over, anytime.”

“I know.” Blaine hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Because you’re with Kurt?”

“We aren’t on the same team anymore.” He sounded wistful. “I miss the Warblers everyday, you know. I wish I was going to the Summit with you guys. But I’m with Kurt now.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t come hang out with us.”

“Well, you know.” Blaine paused, as if shrugging. “We have to practice for the Major.”

Sebastian’s response was swallowed by the sound of the queue popping. Blaine accepted the match quickly, and Sebastian followed suit.

“Want to play Anti-Mage?” Sebastian asked, as he took captaincy of the team and started the draft.

“I should play support. Practice. You know.”

“Do you want to?”

Blaine was quiet. When the game started, he was on Anti-Mage, and Sebastian was playing Crystal Maiden in support.

* * *

The Warblers made it into the top 2 of the Summit.

Sebastian closed his eyes as he collapsed sank into the chair in the green room. The rest of the Warblers sat in various states of exhaustion and misery as Adrenaline Gaming was announced as the winner.

Wes looked them over. “You did well,” he said, calmly. He had been calm throughout the entire tournament, keeping them focused and on-track, even when they dropped games. “You played well. There is nothing to be ashamed of your play.”

“But we lost,” Nick said into the ceiling.

“You did,” Wes said. “But you won more than you lost, and that’s why you’re in second, and not any other place. Now it’s time to take that experience and bring it with you to the next tournaments.”

Sebastian palmed his phone in lieu listening to Wes’ speech. He had a new text from Blaine.

_Top 2! See you at the Major._

Wes said, “You knew that the schedule was going to be tight. But we have six days before the Major, and every game counts.”

Sebastian thumbed a message back.

“Take this tournament, and learn from it.”

_Watch that ass of yours, because as good as it is, it won’t stop us from kicking it._

Wes said, “Let’s keep up the good work.”

Blaine must have been by his phone, because his response came back quickly.

Not if we kick it first.

* * *

They barely had time to unpack before they were packing for the Major. Sebastian’s phone was quiet—Blaine was busy with his own preparations for the major. It was the first of the season, and that meant that they were that much closer to The International.

Fall Major in China, Winter Major in California, Spring Major in Europe. The International in the summer in Seattle. One major, two majors, three majors, and The International. Four tournaments, the largest culminating the season.

He took the flight to contemplate. He hadn’t joined the Warblers to lose, and one minor tournament wasn’t enough to determine their inevitable loss, but it didn’t look good. Blaine could say all he wanted about a second-place finish, but it was exactly that: not first. And the competition was just going to get harder at the Major.

Sebastian played to win.

He closed his eyes as Thad flipped through movie options on the plane. 

Dota wasn’t a game about honor. It was a game where you took fights because they were advantageous, picking off heroes wandering alone with three of yours, taking fights that were unequal because you had the advantage. You did what was necessary to win, and you did it without hesitation, because every second mattered.

Sebastian played to win. He was going to win, no matter what.

* * *

Sebastian was getting coffee at the hotel buffet breakfast when a familiar voice said, “Hey.”

Blaine grinned up at him, a mug of coffee already in his hand. “No cognac, but you look like you could use this.” 

“How could you guess,” Sebastian managed, before snagging the coffee. “You look perky.”

“I’ve never been affected by jetlag.” Blaine shrugged. “No idea why.”

Sebastian raised a brow. They had flown to China for the major, and Sebastian was feeling the effects of the international flight and jetlag too keenly. Even moving to the US from Paris hadn’t felt as bad as this. He didn’t know whether to be glad that the rest of the team seemed similarly affected, or worried on how this affected their chances in the tournament.

Blaine continued, “Congratulations again, by the way.”

Sebastian blinked, before burying his face in the coffee.

“On the Summit,” Blaine clarified, with a grin. “Second place is great.”

“Second place is a loss,” Sebastian corrected. “Psychological warfare doesn’t seem your style, Killer.”

Blaine frowned. “I wasn’t trying to psych you out.”

Sebastian shrugged, taking another sip of the coffee. “Anything to win, right?”

Blaine hesitated. His hand was warm, when he set it on Sebastian’s arm. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sebastian studied him. Blaine looked achingly sincere, as always. “Alright,” he agreed.

Blaine’s brow furrowed. “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you,” Sebastian lied. He took another sip of his coffee. “I’m an asshole before coffee.”

Blaine grinned. “You’re always an asshole.” He patted Sebastian’s arm. “That’s what makes you a good player.”

Sebastian blinked as Blaine slipped away, to where one of the New Directions players—their farming carry, Finn—was squinting at his toast bewilderedly. He stared back down at his coffee, and then at Blaine, who was now talking to Rachel Berry with a comfortable smile.

He noticed that Blaine didn’t get either of them coffee.

* * *

The first day of group stage matches was rough. Jetlag made them slow and snappish, and their usual play was sluggish. Still, they eked out enough wins to put them middle of the pack in their group, with another few days of play lined up. 

“Not bad,” Wes said, when their last game ended—victory, but it was a rough game. “You all know what you have to work on.”

Nick sighed dramatically. “Not being jetlagged?” he suggested.

David snickered into his fist. Wes wasn’t as amused, but he didn’t say anything. David was in charge of post-game analysis.

Thad stretched, arms high over his head. He didn’t say anything either.

The room was quiet for a moment as David shuffled a few pages of his notes. “I’m fucking starved,” Beat finally offered into the silence. “Who’s with me?”

Jeff raised his hand absently, still scrubbing a hand over his face. He was the most exhausted, and it had showed in his play.

Wes looked at them and shrugged. “David?”

“We can talk after dinner,” he agreed, arranging his notes into a pile. “Get some food, guys. We’ll figure this out later.”

Sebastian drank another sip of his coffee. “I’m going to pass,” he said. They might be done with their games for the day, but the New Direction had another series coming up, and Sebastian wasn’t going to pass up the chance to watch Blaine play in peace.

* * *

Sebastian was watching the New Direction’s game in his room when Thad sat down next to him.

“What do you want, Harwood?” Sebastian didn’t look away from the screen.

“You’re watching Blaine.”

“What about it?”

“I thought you’d be watching their carry.”

Sebastian glanced over. Thad was very casually studying his keyboard. Too casually. “What’s that you always say, the support’s the real one to watch.”

“I didn’t think you listened to me.”

Sebastian snorted.

“Listen,” Thad said. “I’m going to talk to you about Blaine.”

“What, going to tell me to stop hanging out with him?”

“No.” Thad was quiet. “Blaine’s a good guy, Sebastian. Just because he joined another team doesn’t change that.”

Sebastian paused the game. “What is this about?”

Thad was frowning at the screen. “I know you’ll do anything to win. I’m telling you that whatever you have planned for Blaine, he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Do you think I’m going to smash his computer or something?” Sebastian couldn’t help the incredulous tone of his voice. “Throw my headset into his monitor?”

Thad didn’t laugh. “I’m serious.”

“Blaine’s a big boy, Harwood.”

“Blaine, is a dreamer,” Thad said, “and my friend.” He stood. “You are not.”

* * *

They made it through the group stage and into the upper bracket of the main. Their first match was against New Directions. David spent the whole night paging through his notes, Wes across from him with a frown on his face.

“It’s different now,” David said, only grimacing a little. “We don’t have Blaine, and he’s on their team instead.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything.

Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry were the two New Direction carries—Finn was their farming carry, slow and steady and nothing special; Rachel played an aggressive mid, drawing attention like a moth to a flame. Finn was nothing to look twice at, but Rachel was one to be cautious around. Their off-laner, who went by _wheels_ , was memorable because he played in a wheelchair, not because of his gameplay.

Kurt was easy to ignore. 

Sebastian didn’t think about what Thad said as he walked out onto the stage of the main event, shaking hands with each member of New Directions. Blaine smiled at him, and Kurt, aware of eyes on them, only sneered a little. As he took his seat in the booth, Thad beside him, he didn’t think about Thad’s words.

David stood behind him, a page of notes in his hand as the draft started.

Sebastian didn’t say much as bans started, the two teams taking turns to ban a handful of heroes. David and Thad had done the majority of the prep work, and they were in charge of the draft. They picked up Earthshaker early, for Beat, who had a deft hand with the hero as a roaming support. Thad picked up Dazzle next, and then they grabbed Huskar for Sebastian.

“You alright with this?” David asked, as Thad’s cursor hovered over the hero.

“Yes,” Sebastian replied without hesitation. He’d be playing aggressively, but that wasn’t a hardship for him.

Thad selected the hero.

They said that games were won or lost at the draft. Sebastian frowned at the screen, studying the New Directions draft. Their supports had already been picked, and Blaine was on Crystal Maiden. A soft target. 

An easy target.

David clapped them on the shoulder as the drafted ended. “Good luck. Have fun,” he said, as he left the booth to do a post-draft interview. Sebastian rolled his shoulders back as the game started and they loaded in. “Probably standard,” Thad was muttering, “Don’t think they’re going to swap lanes. We’ll be against Kurt. Better than Blaine.”

Sebastian shrugged, letting Thad talk to himself. Nothing he said mattered anyways. Nick’s leg was jiggling under the table with nerves. He tried to ignore it as well.

“We fucking got this,” Beat said, steadily. He looked comfortable, but he was playing one of his favorite heroes. “Even against Blaine.”

Sebastian looked at his screen. “Forget about him. I’ve got it handled.”

* * *

“Hey.”

Sebastian opened his eyes from where he was lounging in bed, eyes closed. Thad had let himself in. They were sharing a room, so he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he had expected Thad’s meeting with Wes and David to take longer.

“Going to talk about Blaine?”

“I don’t think I need to.”

They had expected standard lanes, and for the most part, they had gotten them. Sebastian and Thad had started out against Kurt, and though Kurt had put in a good effort, he hadn’t been able to stop Sebastian from getting farm. Thad had harassed him away from the creeps, and he hadn’t had a good lane.

Then Blaine had switched over.

Blaine had started the game in the same lane as Finn, on the other side of the map. But when he showed up, harassing Thad, Sebastian had made the call to go on Blaine.

So they had.

Sebastian had more farm, and it hadn’t been hard to kill Blaine’s hero. It hadn’t been had to kill Crystal Maiden again, later in the game. Blaine played well, but he had been put in a poor position, and it showed. They had won, handily.

The second game went differently.

“Go ahead,” Sebastian said. “Say your piece.”

Thad sat on his own bed. Sebastian eyed him, and then closed his eyes. Thad was well aware that he wasn’t asleep, when he said, “What do you even want with him?”

Sebastian opened an eye.

“He was never your teammate. We all miss him, but we played with him for years. But you—” He paused. “I don’t get why you care.”

“He’s got a great ass,” Sebastian said glibly.

“That’s what this is about?” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that. Sebastian.”

He closed his eyes. “Believe what you want.”

Thad took a deep breath. The bed squeaked as he flopped into it. “Blaine’s the best carry I’ve ever played with.”

Sebastian turned away.

“You know that too.” Thad’s voice was firm. “If he didn’t leave, you wouldn’t have had a spot.”

“Cold, Harwood” Sebastian said. He was aiming for light, but it came out too sharp.

“You think I wanted to play with you when the season started? None of us did. But we play with the cards we’re dealt. Blaine left for Kurt. We got you.”

“Poetic of you.” He turned back around, so he could look Thad in the eye. “You’re going to reach a point soon?”

“Sure. This is what the team is. We don’t get to change it now. So don’t fuck it up.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“How do you think? You’re obsessed, and that’s going to lose us the game.”

He scoffed. “And you guys aren’t?”

“I’m not talking about Blaine.”

Sebastian blinked.

Thad’s voice was very steady. “You’re obsessed with him.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“With Kurt Hummel.”

* * *

It all came down to Kurt.

Kurt was why Blaine left. Kurt was why Blaine sometimes refused to play a pub. Kurt was the reason Sebastian was in the Warblers.

Kurt was keeping Blaine away.

Sebastian stared at the ceiling. They had games tomorrow, and he should be sleeping. Beside him, Thad snored softly; having said his piece, he had gone to bed easily.

Sebastian stayed awake.

That second game, Sebastian had wanted to take Kurt out. He had wanted to give Kurt such a terrible lane that Blaine would be forced to admit that Kurt was a half-rate player who didn’t deserve a spot in a top-tier team, who had coasted in on his connections. He had wanted to show Blaine what he was missing, leaving the Warblers.

And to do that, he had to show Blaine that he was better than Kurt.

And everything had gone badly afterwards.

Dota was a game where the winner took it all. They played for a year in hopes of making it to The International, but only eighteen teams made it to the main event. There were dozens more teams that vied for a spot and failed, ending the season empty-handed.

Sebastian had already experienced that once. He wasn’t going to let it happen again. 

He had joined the Warblers because he knew it gave him a chance of winning. He wanted to play with Blaine, because there was nothing better than the two of them, playing in harmony. He wanted Kurt out of the picture, because that was the only thing keeping Blaine away.

He turned in bed, closing his eyes.

The Warblers had lost to the New Directions in their upper bracket match. Rachel had played a good game, and Blaine’s play had been impeccable. Even though the Warblers had taken the first game, the New Directions had taken the next to in the best of three, continuing on in the upper bracket.

Thad huffed a breath in his sleep.

The Warblers would have to play through the lower bracket, always one breath away from elimination.

They weren’t going to be eliminated.

Sebastian wasn’t going to lose again.

* * *

Blaine’s hand had been warm when they had met on stage after their games, shaking hands. He hadn’t given any of them more than the perfunctory handshake. Kurt had made sure of that.

“Good game,” he had said, his smile tentative around the edges.

Sebastian had nodded back.

Blaine had caught up with him later that night. “Tough match,” he said.

Sebastian, still stinging from the loss, had only raised a brow.

“You played well.”

“Here to brag?”

“No.” Blaine’s hands had fluttered at his side. “I wanted—” He shook his head, and started again, “You’ve still got a shot though. The boys are good.”

“And I’m not?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He took a deep breath. Looked away. “I’ve got to go. Kurt’s going to be wondering where I am.”

“Well, you don’t want to keep _Kurt_ waiting.”

“I—” He shook his head. “I’ll see you at the finals.”

Sebastian had looked up then. “Not if Kurt drags you down first,” and Blaine’s face flickered as he left.

* * *

They lost.

Sebastian didn’t say anything as they waited for their flight. Nick was cheerful, but there was a forced edge to his smile. Jeff was more sarcastic than usual.

Thad was talking with Wes and David.

Sebastian eyed them. Their voices were too low to overhear. Still, from the brief glance that Thad threw at him, he knew they were talking about him. Probably about how he was too obsessed and it was the problem, instead of how Thad was a lackluster support and shot-caller.

His play had been fine. It was the whole team: tired from the tournament they had just played, still jetlagged, demoralized after losing to Blaine—their former teammate. All of the pieces aligned just so, so that Sing Gaming could beat them, 2-0.

With the loss to the New Directions, and then this one, that put them out of the tournament. Blaine was moving on, heading towards the finals, but the Warblers were out.

“There’s the next major,” Nick offered.

“We lost all of our games on the main stage,” Beat said.

Sebastian pretended to be reading reddit on his phone.

“If only we still had Blaine,” Jeff drawled. “Then it’d be easier.”

“Com’on,” Nick began.

“The New Directions wouldn’t be nearly as good if they didn’t have Blaine.”

Nick and Beat were quiet.

Sebastian looked up. “So get Blaine back.” He sneered. “I don’t see you guys trying. Just complaining. Just like how you play.”

“Hold the fuck on,” Beat began.

“Blaine got seduced by some no-good off-laner and you’re all content to sit around and complain that he’s gone.” He stood. “Maybe if you spent less time complaining and more time practicing, we wouldn’t have lost.”

“You think our loss is _our_ fault?” Jeff raised a brow.

“I think you’re all fucking losers,” Sebastian snapped.

“Well, so are you.” Nick stood as well. “What’s your record, Sebastian?”

He sneered. “At least my record’s mine, and not given to me by a carry that left you.”

“That’s enough.”

They turned. Wes was frowning at them.

Nick glanced over at Sebastian, like he wanted to say that Sebastian started it.

“We’ll reflect on the loss when we get back.” Wes’ voice was firm. “Talking about hypotheticals now isn’t helpful.”

“No,” Sebastian interrupted. “Let’s hash it out. Blaine’s the best. Blaine deserves to be with us. Everybody wants Blaine back, right? So go get him back.”

“And how do you suggest that?” David raised a brow from where he was beside Wes. Wes, David, and Thad—the three of them stood in a unit, together. “We kick you?”

Sebastian wasn’t going to let them kick him when he was this close to playing with Blaine Anderson. “I’ve played more support with Blaine in the past three months than Thad has.”

Nick gasped. “Thad helped _found_ the team.”

Sebastian ignored Nick.

Wes ignored the entire exchange. “Blaine is an adult, who made his choice. Nobody’s getting kicked. We aren’t here to discuss hypotheticals.”

“Blaine picked a winning team. All we have to do, is prove that we’re better than Kurt, and he’ll come back.”

Thad rolled his eyes.

Wes raised an eyebrow. “You sound confident.”

Sebastian’s hands clenched. “Why would he stay with a losing team?”

Wes smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Why indeed?”

* * *

Every game of Dota started the same way. Two teams of five faced off from bases on opposite corners of a square map. The bases were connected with three lanes: one that wound along the left and top edge of the map, one that wound along the bottom and right edge of the map, and one that crossed straight across, from one corner to the other. Each lane had three towers at even intervals that attached any enemy that approached. Every 30 seconds, weak units called creeps spawned at the edge of each base, and then marched down each lane until they met in the middle and beat each other futilely to death. Any that made it through were inevitably obliterated by a tower.

Every enemy you killed gave you experience to level up with, be it an enemy hero or enemy creeps. And every time you landed the last hit on an enemy killed, you gained gold to buy items with.

Every game of Dota started the same way. You sat down before your computer and selected a hero. You started out a level one, and as you killed enemies, you gained in strength. If you were good at landing the last hit on enemies, you gained gold to buy items that gave you more strength.

The more you grew: in experience, in gold—the easier it was to take the enemy base. In the center of each base, guarded by two more towers, was the base’s nexus. Defeat the nexus, and you defeated the enemy team and won.

Every game of Dota ended the same way.

With one nexus destroyed, and the other intact.

With one side victorious, and the other side defeated.

* * *

Blaine didn’t talk to Sebastian for a week after the major. Sebastian thought about reaching out, but he was still smarting from the loss. After an analysis session, the team had settled into scrimmages, and Sebastian was sharp as he tried to wrangle them into something decent. The others whispered, but Wes’ quelling stare kept them focused enough. There were no discussions about trying to get Blaine back or Sebastian getting kicked. Sebastian spent his nights playing solo public games, climbing the rank ladder with single-minded focus.

“You’re very determined,” David commented, when their scrimmage games ended for the day and Sebastian loaded up solo pub games. “Trying to make the top of the ladder?”

Sebastian shrugged, not bothering to deign the comment with a response. He pulled off his headphones and pushed his chair back to grab a soda from the fridge while waiting for the queue to pop. Thad was shaking his hair out, his own headset off. Nick and Jeff were already out of their seats and in the kitchen, squabbling with familiar ease as they rummaged in the cabinets for snacks. They glanced at him as he passed by. Sebastian ignored them as he popped open the tab of the can and went back to his computer in the large living room they’d converted into a computer room.

Beat was lounging in his own desk chair, arms behind his back. He attempted to make eye contact with Sebastian, who ignored him in favor of sitting back down at his computer.

Not to be deterred, Beat messaged him. _what's with you seb_

Sebastian closed the chat window in response.

It popped back up. Beat continued: _yuo that pissed abt losing???_

Sebastian closed the chat window again. It popped back up, and Sebastian was about to close it when he saw the username.

 _songbird_ said _don’t talk to me again._

Sebastian raised a brow. A tab opened in the chat window—Beat, trying to continue the conversation—but he ignored it in favor of Blaine’s message.

_what brought this on, killer?_

_leave blaine alone._

A pause, and then a new message popped up.

_leave me alone_

Sebastian felt a smirk pulling at the corner of his lip at the slip. _kurt, is it? does blaine know you’re on his account?_

_we share things._

_pretty sure account sharing is against the steam tos_. And Sebastian didn’t think he would ever thank his father for beating in the habit of reading terms and conditions into him, but he guessed it was useful, for once. _pretty shitty of you to fuck up blaine’s account._

_pretty shitty of you to fuck around with my boyfriend_

Sebastian snorted. _we're friends. guess you don’t know what that means._

_i know friends don’t act the way you do._

Sebastian stared at the words. He took a long swig of his soda. The bubbles stung his throat as it went down.

He switched to Beat’s tab, which was still flickering with new messages.

_fuck you smythe dont just ignore me.  
dont blame u for being pissed at losing but even jeffs getting over it  
and that shit about thad was uncalled for  
nobody else will call u out on it but your a asshole  
but your fkn good at carry ok  
dont just ignore me smythe  
i know u can see this  
i can literally see a chat window on your screen  
fine ill just say it.  
nobody expects this team to be amazing but itll never be if you keep being an asshole when we lose  
we all fukn miss blaine but guess what your not shitty thad just doesnt know how to play with you and you never fukn duo with him so its not even his fukn fault  
and thad isnt shit_

Sebastian stared at the messages. He glanced over at Beat, who met his gaze without antagonism, just an unrepentant gaze. Sebastian turned back to his computer.

_dude wtf_

Across the room, Beat typed back.

_finally got you to look_

Sebastian shook his head. He pulled off his headset. “Seriously?” he called.

Beat turned around in his own chair, pulling off his own headset. He didn’t move from his seat several meters away, but his voice was low and clear as he said, “I’m not a counselor, but I can tell that you’re pissed about losing, and you’re taking it out on us.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. He had been sharp in the comms today, sure, but it wasn’t like the rest of the team didn’t deserve it, with their sloppy play. They would never make it to top 8 of the season ladder if they kept playing the way they did.

“David should be saying this, but he’s too nice, and you’re an asshole.” Beat, solid and dependable, continued. “I don’t mind saying it if it means you stop. So here’s me, saying it. If you want the team to work, you can’t keep this up. Because Wes doesn’t want to play, but he will if we kick you. And we will, if you keep doing this.”

Sebastian stared back. Wes was a good carry, and had been amazing, but that was years ago, and he was out of practice. Sebastian was better than Wes in a dozen different ways. But Beat didn’t break his gaze. He meant it, then, even if the rest of the team might not be in on it. Sebastian finally said, “Alright.”

“And if you’re pissed about losing, talk to David about it instead of yelling at us in game.”

“What are you, a counselor?”

Beat laughed. Some of the tension ebbed. “Nah,” he said. “I just used to do this when Blaine was here.”

Sebastian raised a brow. He thought of Kurt, using Blaine’s account to tell him to back off. “I wouldn’t have thought Blaine would ever yell in comms.”

“He wouldn’t.” Beat shrugged. “But he hated losing. Thought it was letting the team down, if we didn’t win, and he’d go and punch things for hours. I’d make him talk to David, back when David was still playing, and David would straighten him out. He’s good at that. That’s why we were cool when he said he wanted to coach us. He’s got a way of straightening us out.”

Maybe that was why everybody was fine with David trying to get them to talk about their feelings. “I thought that’d be Wes.”

Beat shook his head. “David’s nicer.”

Sebastian couldn’t argue with that.

On his screen, his chat window flickered—Blaine’s account, sending him a message. He clicked over.

 _sorry_ , it said, _i went to the bathroom, and kurt went on my account. but kurt’s right, sometimes you don’t know when enough’s enough. i don’t think we should be playing together so much._

Sebastian didn’t have time to respond. His queue popped with the familiar gong sound, and he hesitated over the accept button.

Who knew if it was Blaine, or if it was Kurt pretending to be Blaine. The only way to find out was to corner Blaine in person, and that was hard enough with tournament season in full swing and busy scrim schedules.

Well, if Blaine didn’t want to play with him, then he was stuck with the Warblers, wasn’t he. We play with the cards we’re dealt, Thad had said. Sebastian had always been good at winning, even when playing from behind. He wasn’t going to let that change things.

Sebastian pressed accept, and when he entered the solo pub game, he picked the most aggressive carry he could find.

* * *

David sat down across from Sebastian. “Let’s talk.”

Sebastian eyed David back. “Sure,” he drawled. “Talk.”

The new year had just started. The team had taken a one-week break for Christmas and New Years. He’d thought that spending a week away with the team would help, but spending the time with his father hadn’t helped his mood. He’d called his mother in Paris, and she was distracted and busy and they had barely talked. Instead, he had spent his break lying in bed and wishing he was back in the team house and practicing.

David pulling him to the side before they had even gotten a day into practice for the upcoming tournaments was foreboding.

David rolled his eyes, but it wasn’t quite exasperated. “You aren’t being kicked.”

Sebastian didn’t relax, but that did answer a question he hadn’t realized he was wondering about ever since Beat had called him out. “Alright. What are we talking about.”

“Communication.”

Sebastian sighed. 

“You’re a good player, Sebastian, but you don’t need to take your frustration out on the team. It doesn’t help, and you know that. I know you know that.”

Everybody on the team had gotten David’s articles about how positive reinforcement and communication led to better team play, and Sebastian had skimmed through the articles—mostly bullshit—while waiting for his solo queues to pop, David’s gaze over his shoulder making sure he actually scrolled through the articles and didn’t just open and close them. So yes, Sebastian did know that yelling at his teammates didn’t help, that in-game communication should be focused and positive, that encouragement worked better than accusations.

It didn’t help the Warblers from being utter shit at times.

David continued, “You aren’t being kicked. You’re a good player, and for all of your issues with Thad, you play well enough with the team. But Sebastian…”

His hands clenched.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Sebastian stared back. “Doing what.”

“This.” David gestured at them, back and forth. “We’re on the same team, Sebastian.”

He met David’s gaze. There was something cutting on the tip of his tongue, but Blaine’s words: _sometimes you don’t know when enough’s enough_ kept them back.

David stood. “Just… think about it. And maybe talk to Thad.” 

Sebastian watched him leave. He paused before getting up to go get coffee from the kitchen. As he stood in front of the Keurig—it made halfway decent coffee quickly, which was all he needed right now—he thought of Beat, of Blaine, and now David.

_I don’t think we should be playing together so much._

He scalded his tongue on the coffee when he took a drink, and it felt fitting.

* * *

Thad kicked the wheels of his chair after scrims. “Let’s go.”

Sebastian didn’t get up. “Where are we going?”

“Team bonding.” His expression was appropriately sour. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s David’s idea.”

“Well, if Coach says so,” Sebastian drawled back. David was talking, head bent over Wes’ computer, in low tones, probably planning what needed to be done before the next Major, given their disastrous placing in the first. “What’s this bonding we’re supposed to be doing?”

Thad shrugged. “Just follow me. Carry listens to the support in the early game, right?”

“Pretty sure that doesn’t apply for vague attempts at team bonding,” Sebastian retorted, but he followed, sliding his wallet into his back pocket and grabbing his coat before following Thad to his car. Thad had classic rock playing on the radio, and he barely turned it down as he drove into Columbus. The steady beat thrummed with the hum of the engine, and Sebastian stared out the window instead of trying to make conversation.

Thad pulled up in front of a coffee shop. “David thinks you’re mad at me.”

“I’m mad at everybody,” Sebastian offered.

“Yeah, but he thinks you don’t want to play with me in particular.” He slid his hands into his back pocket and stared at the menu. “I know better. You just want to play with Blaine.”

Sebastian didn’t respond.

“Everybody liked playing with Blaine,” Thad continued, conversational. The line inched forward, and Thad moved with it. “He’s easier-going than you, he’s nice, he cares about how we do as a team.”

They took another step forward.

“You’re good, but you’re not Blaine.” Thad glanced at him, and then back to the menu. “You shouldn’t try to be Blaine.”

“Pretty sure Beat and David wanted me to be more like him.”

“No.” Thad didn’t look away from the menu in studied determination. “They want you stop resenting that we aren’t Blaine. They want you to play like yourself.”

Sebastian blinked.

“What do you want?” They were only a few people away from the counter. “My treat.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to protest, and then shook his head. “Medium drip,” he said.

Thad smirked. “Same thing Blaine always got.”

“Did you do this with Blaine?”

Thad stared back at the menu, but Sebastian recognized it now as a deliberate move. “Yeah,” Thad finally said. “He called it bonding.” Thad glanced over, and then away again. “He’s an addict. Couldn’t drink Mountain Dew like the rest of us. Had to get coffee. Wes got the Keurig in the kitchen for him, because he was terrible without caffeine.”

Sebastian didn’t know how to respond. It was more information about Blaine than he’d expected from Thad.

“Blaine’s a good guy,” Thad continued. “But he’s garbage at knowing what he needs. It’s why we worked well—he knew how to play. He was good at it. He was good when I wasn’t in lane with him, but giving him direction, telling him when to be aggressive and when to pull back… it gave him security, and he thrived.”

Sebastian stepped forward, with the rest of the line.

“You’re not the same as Blaine. You’ve got a mind of your own. It’s what makes you good. It’s what makes you different from Blaine. You’d rather call the shots as a support than listen to me as a carry.” Thad didn’t look over, his gaze fixed steadily forward. “You can call it what you want, but I’ve played a lot with Blaine, and I’ve played a lot with you.” Finally, he looked over. “You aren’t Blaine,” he echoed. “And you shouldn’t try to be him.”

Sebastian said, “What are you suggesting?”

Thad said, “You’re right, when you said that we’d do better with Blaine. And you’re right that you’d be a better support for him. I’ve watched your replays. You two play well together.” There was only one more person ahead of them, and they reeled off their order in a practiced motion. Thad fell silent, in anticipation of their turn, and Sebastian’s skin itched in impatience.

When they’d ordered, Thad ordering for Sebastian and sliding over a frequent member card along with his credit card, and settled down at a table to wait for their orders, Thad looked at him with his steady dark gaze and said, “I think we should about how we’re going to make this team work. With or without Blaine.”

* * *

“I love this team,” Thad said, on the car ride back. “I built it. And I know when I’m not the right fit for it anymore. Blaine and I were good, but i know that you and Blaine could be better.”

“I thought you’d say something about how Blaine loves Kurt and would never leave him,” Sebastian drawled back, slouching in the passenger seat.

“Would it make you feel better if I did?” Thad matched his inflection. “Give up now, Sebastian. Blaine’ll never leave true love.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Pretty sure I know Blaine pretty well to be confident about this.”

Sebastian snorted. Thad had turned down the radio for the ride back, and the sound was low as they drove on the freeway. “Your plan seems to have flaws.”

“My plans are flawless,” Thad retorted, seemingly on instinct. He kept his eyes on the road before him. “Blaine’s in love with Kurt, but he likes you. Just keep hanging out with him, and he’ll come around. He’s always got lots of love to give.”

“Except for the fact he doesn’t want to play with me anymore,” Sebastian said, as he had four times already.

“That was the Kurt part talking.” Thad sounded infuriatingly confident. “You need to get past the Kurt part.”

“Which you don’t have any idea how to do.”

Thad barely tilted his head to raise a brow at him, eyes still fixed on the road before him. Sebastian wasn’t sure when their relationship had evolved from antagonism to this easy ribbing, but it felt good to not look at Thad and feel frustrated. He wasn’t sure he’d ever want to play with Thad the way he wanted to play with Blaine, but he wasn’t sure he’d resent it anymore. “You want to play with him, you should be able to make a plan to do so.”

“I did.”

“It was a bad plan.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you too, Harwood.”

“No thanks.” Thad’s voice was perfectly dry. “You’re hot, but not my type.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and flung his head back into the upholstered seat. “Has anybody told you that you’re a pain in the ass?”

“Yeah,” Thad replied. “My boyfriend, after I fuck him.”

“Fuck off.”

“It’s true.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. Just that you should fuck off.”

Thad finally smirked. “Listen, Smythe. You’re an ass, but Blaine somehow likes you.” He turned off the freeway, changing lanes with a responsibility that was infuriating. “And for some reason, I don’t think you’re half bad.”

* * *

Sebastian flipped to his chat with Blaine. _can we talk?_

_I don’t know if that’s a good idea._

_I want to apologize. Coffee?_

There was a pause, while Blaine was typing, and then he finally said, _I can get coffee._

They met at a Starbucks—neutral ground, Thad explained. The coffee wouldn’t be that great, but Blaine would drink sludge if it was called coffee. Better than the Lima Bean, which Blaine spent too many afternoons with Kurt in. Sebastian got there first, and he had a medium drip with a dash of cinnamon in it on the table waiting when Blaine walked in.

Blaine looked at the cup as he unwound his scarf. “What’s this?”

“Coffee.”

Blaine eyed it, before he sat down. Sebastian raised his own to-go cup in the air in a toast, and Blaine followed suit hesitantly. “You said you wanted to apologize.”

“I was an ass, when we were at the major.” Blaine liked honesty, Thad had said, decisively. He’d take Sebastian being an honest asshole over a disingenuous nice guy. “Thought I should get you coffee to apologize.”

“You didn’t have to.” But Blaine took a sip. He blinked when he tasted the cinnamon. “You put cinnamon in this.”

“Yeah. You like cinnamon in your coffee.”

“I didn’t know you realized that.”

Sebastian said, “I noticed.”

Blaine nodded.

Sebastian nodded back. He let the silence stretch. It didn’t last long. Blaine finally broke, as Thad had anticipated, “Is this about not wanting to play with you?”

“Not exactly.” Sebastian took the time to take another sip of his coffee. “You don’t have to play pubs with me if you don’t want to. I just didn’t want it to be because I was an asshole after losing.”

“It wasn’t—” Blaine broke off. He paused. “I need to practice support more,” he finally said.

“Sure. You don’t have to play carry if you don’t want to.”

“No, I mean.” Blaine shook his head. “I’m with Kurt,” he said, again.

“I know.”

“I love Kurt.”

“You’ve said.”

“I can’t keep playing with you.”

Sebastian raised a brow, but he didn’t say anything.

Blaine shook his head, again and again. “I can’t, Sebastian. I can’t.”

He didn’t say anything in response.

Blaine’s fingers pressed into the cup. “You make it too easy. You make it too good. I promised Kurt—”

Sebastian finally said, “If it makes you happy,” and he let the words trail into the future.

Blaine looked up from his coffee. He didn’t say anything. “I promised Kurt,” he repeated. He looked up. “I can’t just leave him. I made a promise.”

“So you did.” Sebastian didn’t stand, didn’t end on a decisive note. Instead, he just sat and drank his coffee, and so did Blaine, in miserable silence.

* * *

The Warblers won the NA qualifiers for the January Major, cementing their position as a top North American team. Thad’s willingness to do what was best with the team made it easier for Sebastian to listen to Thad, and they had a rapport now. It turned out that his calls weren’t half bad, now that Sebastian had an idea of how Thad worked and wasn't seething in resentment every time Thad made a suggestion. With a win—even if it was an online qualifier, and not a LAN—the team seemed more settled, and David took to humming as he watched replays and made notes in anticipation for the Major.

Blaine hadn’t asked him to play any games, and Sebastian didn’t push. Instead, he played pubs with Thad, who was far more relaxed in pubs and took relish in dryly cussing Sebastian out every time Sebastian made a bad play. Sebastian found the profanity reassuring, which was a strange feeling.

“From anybody else, I would assume that Thad hated them,” Nick said. “I’ve never seen Thad curse that much. Beat’s always been the cusser in the team.”

“He still is,” Jeff drawled.

Thad rolled his eyes in response. If it had been just Sebastian, he probably would have told Sebastian to fuck himself.

“It’s Sebastian,” Beat said, cheerfully. “He brings out the worst in Thad.”

Thad rolled his eyes again.

“I’m right here,” Sebastian pointed out. “And so’s Thad.”

“It’s called teamwork,” Thad said. “Sebastian and I have an understanding.”

“And I’m very glad you do,” Wes interrupted. “But we’re here to talk about the Major.”

Nick straightened up. “What about it?”

“Other than the fact it’s in two weeks? Absolutely nothing,” David drawled back. He thumped his notepad on Nick’s head as he walked by, before turning to face the team. They stared back. “Let’s get to work.”

Sebastian focused on the screen. His eyes met Thad’s as he turned, and Thad’s mouth curved in a small familiar smirk.

When he listened to David outline what they were going to work on for the next few weeks, he felt a thrill of something coil along his spine—something that he had always called victory, but was taking the shape of something else.

* * *

Despite all of them being in the same hotel, Sebastian didn’t see Blaine until the main event began. Sebastian and Thad’s new rapport was translating well into their play. Thad was brisk and efficient when playing tournament games, but he managed Sebastian’s aggressive play and acknowledged Sebastian’s late-game calls, backing him up with a comfort that hadn’t been around earlier in the season. It led to a top finish in their group, and he exchanged comfortable high-fives with Thad after their last group stage game ended in a victory.

Sebastian traced the bracket after it was announced. If both the Warblers and New Directions won their first match, they would meet in the second round—again. 

“You’re thinking about Blaine,” Thad said. 

“So are you.”

“Yeah, because I recognize that look on your face.”

Sebastian glared back, before turning back to the bracket. “We’re playing New Directions second.”

“If they win.”

“Do you think they’re going to lose in the first round?”

“Always a chance.” Thad nodded towards the chart. “They’re playing Team Mercy. They’re pretty good.”

“As good as Blaine?”

“He can’t carry the whole team on his back.” Thad’s mouth curved into a smirk. “He couldn’t carry us, last TI.”

Sebastian eyed him.

“Oh, I’m only a little bitter,” Thad said, and his voice was normal, not bitter. “But you’re right. Mercy aren’t likely to win. We’re playing New Directions after we win.”

And then Sebastian would get to play against Blaine again, and he would get to prove that Blaine should be playing with him, with the Warblers, and not with Kurt.

He would get to win.

* * *

It was a hard match—best of three, on the main stage, with the crowd roaring every time they stepped out. Rachel Berry was as good as ever, New Directions was a strong team, and Sebastian had no time to worry about anything other than the game. Berry’s play was good, but Sebastian’s play was better, especially with Thad’s steady presence in lane keeping him in the game, and Thad’s calls in mid-game gave Sebastian the space to keep up even as he was being pressured.

Sebastian’s hands were steady on the keyboard and mouse, and the world seemed to narrow down to simple clarity. Thad’s voice in his headset was calm, but it was a reassurance to hear him. Nick’s updates were bright, Jeff’s voice droll, and Beat a steady drum. It gave Sebastian the strength to play his best.

And New Directions weren’t playing their best.

He didn’t focus on why, just on exploiting the cracks in their play. He didn’t take any relish in punishing Kurt overextending in lane, and it wasn’t until after the game that he realized that he had spent the game in a state of clarity he was unused to.

“Fuck _yeah_ ,” Beat shouted, pounding the table with his fists, when GG’s were called, and they won. Nick let out a whoop and Jeff shook his head in disbelief.

Thad turned to Sebastian, and Sebastian slapped Thad’s upraised hand. “Fuck, Smythe, that was insane.”

Sebastian snorted. His limbs seemed loose as the last dregs of adrenaline from the match began to fade. “Good job yourself, Harwood.”

“I haven’t seen you play that well in a while,” Thad said, as they made their way to center stage to shake hands with New Directions. Nick pulled Blaine in for a brief hug, slapping his back affectionately. Thad patted Blaine on the shoulder. When Sebastian took Blaine’s hand, he squeezed.

Blaine squeezed back. “Good game,” he said. He sounded like he meant it.

“You too,” Sebastian said.

Kurt didn’t say anything, but when they shook hands, Kurt squeezed viciously, and Sebastian squeezed back without any change in his expression.

Backstage, Thad slapped Sebastian on the back. “What the fuck was with that?”

“What was what?”

David, who was waiting backstage along with Wes, nodded. “Good job, guys,” he said. He exchanged high-fives with Beat, who let out another low, “Fuck,” with full-bodied delight. “That was great. Sebastian, what was that?”

“What was _what_?” Sebastian repeated.

Wes, level-headed, said, “Your play today was impeccable.” At Sebastian’s blank look, he said, “We’ll watch the replay. You’ll see.”

Watching the replay, Sebastian could see where they were coming at. He was a top player, and he always played well, but everything seemed to be going for him this game—clutch plays worked out, his farming was on-point, and every decision to commit or back-off seemed profound, as if he knew exactly what was going on. He remembered the match, the way everything had snapped into clear focus, Thad’s voice in his ear, but watching it, from an outside perspective, was something else.

“If you could play like this all the time,” David said, “We’ll win TI.”

Sebastian rewound the replay to watch it again. 

There was a strange emptiness despite their victory. He was glad they had won, but compared to Beat’s exuberance or Nick’s joy, he felt odd. They won their next match, making it to the grand finals. As Sebastian shook hands with Team Gamesplosion, he waited for Thad’s sharp triumph to fill him, or for Jeff’s satisfied pleasure, but instead he felt numb. Playing with Thad and the Warblers, now that they were on the same wavelength, seemed brighter and more clear than standing out on the main stage under bright lights as the crowd cheered.

They were up against Adrenaline Gaming in the grand finals. New Directions had made it to the lower bracket finals, only to lose to Adrenaline Gaming in a bitter best of three. Adrenaline was top-two in TI last year. Adrenaline had placed second in the last Major. But when Sebastian sat down to play, he felt that same sense of clarity he’d had all tournament, and when he hoisted the trophy with the rest of the Warblers, as the loudspeakers announced the Warblers as the victors of the Winter Major, he waited for the satisfaction of victory to hit.

It never did.

* * *

“Okay,” David said, settling down across from Sebastian. “Let’s talk.”

Sebastian sighed. “What now?”

David ignored the animosity. By now, they were all familiar with Sebastian’s brand of friendship, which consisted of sarcasm, put-upon sighs, and pointed looks. “There’s something off about you,” he said. He had his notepad, but he tossed it onto his desk in favor of crossing his arms and frowning at Sebastian. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. We won the Major, everything’s going great.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” David raised a brow. “I thought you only got mad when you lost. I’ve never seen you so mad about winning.”

“I’m not mad about winning.”

“You’re mad about winning.” David’s tone didn’t allow for an argument, and Sebastian didn’t feel like arguing. “Six out of eight Warblers agree.”

“Eight?” There were only five of them on the team. “Oh, you’re counting yourself and Wes.” But that only left seven.

David’s gaze was steady. “Once a Warbler, always a Warbler.”

“You mean Blaine.”

“That’s right. Good segue, right? Let’s talk about how it felt to play against Blaine.”

“Shouldn’t you be talking to the others about this?” Sebastian sighed. “After all, all of you guys were cozy teammates with him less than a year ago.”

“I did talk to the others about it.” David didn’t take the bait. “We talked about it after Blaine left, about how just because Blaine was our teammate and our friend doesn’t mean we can stop playing our best. And everybody understood. I didn’t think I needed to talk to you about it, because you didn’t play with Blaine, but maybe I should have.”

Sebastian met David’s gaze. “It’s not about Blaine,” he said.

“You’ve gotten very close.”

“It’s not about Blaine.”

“And I understand that it can be hard when you have to play against somebody you’re close to—”

“It’s not about Blaine anymore!” Sebastian shouted. David’s eyes widened, and Sebastian brought his voice back down to his regular sardonic tone. “It’d be easy if it was about Blaine.”

“What’s it about, then?”

Sebastian thought about the few weeks when he knew he would be playing with the Warblers, before he started playing with them. It had been about finding a top-tier team. It had been about winning. It had been about Blaine, about one of the top carry players, about what that meant for his prospects of victory. But the Winter Major had changed things, and Sebastian felt tense and uneasy with the uncertainty.

“It’s about winning,” Sebastian finally said. David didn’t seem to understand, and Sebastian needed him to, but he didn’t know how to explain it.

* * *

“Heard you had a session with David today.”

“Is this an interrogation?”

Thad laughed. “No. I overheard him talking to Wes. He sounded baffled.”

“Good for him.”

“So I figured I’d talk to you and figure out what was going on.”

“Nothing’s going on.” Sebastian continued to scroll through reddit. There was nothing particularly interesting. He clicked to the next page. Somebody had made a post about Jungling Anti-Mage. He ignored it in favor of clicking to the third page.

“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.” Thad spun Sebastian’s chair around. He was smirking, so he wasn’t angry, just determined. “What happened to ‘Got to Get Blaine Back’ Sebastian?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes back. “Didn’t know you wanted to get kicked so badly.”

“Oh, fuck you, Smythe.” Thad wasn’t deterred. “We talked about this already. This is my team and I’m going to see us win a TI even if it means I’m standing with Wes and David backstage.” His eyes narrowed. “So what happened to you?”

“Nothing.” He tried to turn back to his computer, but Thad’s grip on his chair was firm. “Do you mind?”

Thad said, “Have you changed your mind?”

“About you being a pain in my ass?”

“About Blaine.” He leaned forward. “You haven’t tried to talk to him since the Major.” He continued. “You’ve been quiet, since the Major.”

“I’m waiting for the right moment. You told me to wait, asshole.”

“And I expected you to send him ten texts telling him that he should ditch Kurt the Loser for the Winning Warblers and was going to commend you for your self-control, except there was no self-control involved, because you didn’t even want to text him.” Thad leaned back. He let go of Sebastian’s chair. Sebastian didn’t turn around. “Something about you’s changed.”

Sebastian said, “Fuck off.” But he didn’t turn away from Thad, just stared until Thad gave up and went back to his own computer.

Reddit was still full of shit. Sebastian closed the tab and went to get coffee.

* * *

The only thing that mattered was winning.

Oh, there were prizes if you weren’t first—consolation prizes. But first place—that was what mattered. And to reach the top, you had to keep winning.

And the only way to keep winning was just to be better than everybody else. Play better than the enemy team. Make a team with the best players. 

It was a simple formula. If a team had the best carries, the best supports, then it would win, and win consistently and persistently.

It was a simple formula.

It was wrong.

* * *

Sebastian was browsing reddit again when Beat rolled his chair up to Sebastian’s desk and began the conversation with, “What the fuck are you and Thad up to?”

Sebastian responded, mostly on instinct. “What makes you think we’re up to anything?”

Beat swiveled back and forth. “I’m not fucking blind.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“And I’m not deaf.”

“I would hope not.”

Beat finally sighed. “Fuck, this was easier with Blaine.”

Sebastian turned and raised a brow.

Beat grinned. “Got your attention, did it?”

Sebastian turned back to his computer, only slightly peeved at Beat’s trick. “Seriously?”

Beat said, “Yeah. I want to know what you and Thad are up to.”

“Nothing.”

“Because I want in on whatever plan you guys have.”

Sebastian blinked. He turned back to Beat, who stared at him with only a faint hint of smugness. “What?”

“I’m not fucking blind, and I’m not fucking deaf.” Beat snorted. “And neither you nor Thad are subtle at _all_.”

“Fuck off.”

Beat ignored him. “You are obviously hatching some sort of plan to get Blaine back, and I’m down. Blaine’s a fucking beast.”

“What happened to Blaine can make his own decisions?”

Beat waved a hand in the air, casually. “He’s always been prone to bad ones.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “This is a change from a few months ago.”

“A few months ago, we thought you were an asshole who wanted to kick Thad for shits and giggles.” Beat grinned. “Now we know better.”

“Who’s this ‘we?’”

“Who do you think?” Beat gestured at the room around them, the computers laid out along the walls for the entire team to play together. The others were out at the moment. Sebastian had been enjoying the silence. “We’re a team, here.”

Sebastian stared at him. “Getting Blaine back means somebody’s getting kicked.”

Beat corrected him, “Getting Blaine back means that Thad gets to boss us around the way he’s always liked bossing us, and you get a chance to show those leadership skills you’ve got when you play with Blaine.” He spread his hands out, easy. “Like I said, it’s different now. You're part of the team. We trust you.”

Beat made it sound so easy, but the plans that Sebastian had made months ago felt fragile, like a too-strong breath would make them shatter. He felt like he was on the precipice, like he was rushing to the enemy throne and seeing the enemy team rush down the lanes to his own throne, knowing that it was coming down to the luck of the draw, and his chest was tight with uncertainty.

* * *

After David, Thad, and Beat, Sebastian figured it would be Nick and Jeff, or maybe Wes coming over. Surprisingly, it was Blaine, sending him a message and asking to get coffee. They met up at the same Starbucks in Columbus—neutral territory, Thad had called it. Sebastian wasn’t early this time; Blaine was already sitting at a table, two coffees in front of him.

Sebastian stopped in front of the table. “Is somebody else coming?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Blaine laughed. “That’s for you.” He pushed a cup to Sebastian, who sipped it tentatively—medium drip, the beans only a little burnt for Starbucks standards. “Hope I got your order right. You’re the one who usually shows up early.”

“You got it right.” Sebastian sat down. 

“How’s it going?”

Sebastian shrugged back. “What’s this about? You didn’t text me just to ask how I’m doing, did you?”

Blaine smiled ruefully. “You got me.”

Sebastian didn’t reply.

Blaine’s expression straightened, the edges turning serious. “There’s a rumor that I’m going back to the Warblers.” 

Sebastian raised a brow.

“Is this your doing?”

“Why Blaine, I’m hurt,” he drawled. “You’d accuse me of spreading rumors to ruin your perfect life with Kurt?”

Blaine met his gaze. “Yes, you would.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He sipped his coffee. “I would. And you’d be better off too.”

Blaine said, “I love him.”

“So you’ve said.” It felt like they were playing the same game, over and over, with no change. Two heroes of equal strength, and no matter how Sebastian played the game, he never won. “You should rejoin the Warblers,” he said, because that was what he did in the game.

“I’m not going to leave Kurt.”

Sebastian sipped his coffee. “You left the others.”

Thad, steadfast and steady in a crisis; Nick, bright and cheerful; Jeff, droll on the comms but brisk and efficient in his play; Beat, with his muttered profanity as he roamed around the map, providing support to the entire team. David, who pulled them aside one by one to reassure them, to encourage them, to build them up stronger. Wes, who kept them on task and focused on their goal.

Blaine had just left them, for Kurt.

Blaine was saying something, but Sebastian wasn’t listening. He was remembering the Major, and how it felt to play with the team: Thad, who said that Sebastian wasn’t Blaine, so he was going to stop acting like he was playing with Blaine and play with Sebastian instead. Beat, who ended each victory with “Fuck _yeah_ ,” and slaps on the back. Nick and Jeff, who always high-fived each other first, before turning to the rest of the team: Nick beaming, Jeff rolling his eyes at the thought of expressing excessive emotion.

And then, once they had walked backstage, to David giving them huge hugs regardless if they won or lost the game, sitting down with notes and reminding them that no matter the circumstances, all they could do was go out and play the best. Wes, who made sure all of them ate and drank enough water.

“You left them,” Sebastian said.

Blaine stopped. He took a breath, looked down at his coffee, and finally said, “I did.”

“Was it worth it?”

Blaine didn’t respond. Sebastian didn’t push. They sat in silence and drank their coffees, and Sebastian knew that Blaine was thinking of the same thing he was: how the Warblers were not just a team to win with, but a family.

* * *

“What did you talk about with Blaine?”

Sebastian hung his coat in the closet. Nick was hanging out on the couch with Jeff—the two of them were inseparable—and he lolled his head back to watch Sebastian shed his outerwear, ignoring the movie playing on the TV.

“This team gossips more than middle school girls,” Sebastian said, but his voice lacked any sharpness.

“That’s us.” Nick grinned. “Well?”

Jeff sighed, and paused the movie.

“Don’t let me interrupt your movie.” Sebastian made to go to his room.

“No,” Jeff drawled. “Nick’ll be distracted forever if you don’t answer him. We’ll probably lose our next matches because he’ll be wondering what you talked about with Blaine one weekday afternoon.”

“Not all of them,” Nick protested. He patted the couch. “You’ll have to tell us now, otherwise any future losses are your fault, Sebastian.”

“They’d be yours,” Jeff retorted. “Since you’re the one being distracted.”

“But Sebastian could have resolved it, and he didn’t, so it’d really be Sebastian’s fault.”

“I’m sure David will go for that.”

“I’m sure he will too.”

Sebastian found himself smiling. There was something familiar about this bickering—it was comforting to be back and listening to Nick and Jeff go back and forth with each other, the two of them familiar with each other. He moved so he was leaning against the wall, so Nick didn’t have to loll his head along the back of the couch to make eye contact. “It was nothing. Just some rumor that Blaine heard. He thought I started it.”

“Did you?” Nick asked.

“Of course not,” Jeff replied. “He’d be much more smug if he did. Look at his cheekbones.”

Sebastian blinked.

“You get a look on your face,” Nick explained for Jeff. “When you’re especially proud of something. We’ve decided that it’s some cheekbone thing.” Jeff nodded in agreement.

Sebastian shook his head. “Middle school girls,” he muttered back.

“So what then?” Nick asked, undeterred. “You convince him that he’d be better with us?”

Blaine had never answered Sebastian’s question. When they left, he could still see the furrow in Blaine’s brow, and Sebastian knew that no matter what Blaine thought, he would always regret leaving the Warblers. It was just a matter of if the New Directions were enough to overcome that regret.

Sebastian said, “Who knows what Blaine thinks.”

“You do a pretty good job at it,” Jeff said. He turned back to the TV, and, as it was still paused, ended up pulling out his phone instead. Nick studied Sebastian, before unpausing the movie.

“He says he loves Kurt.” Sebastian finally said. He’d only seen Blaine’s tenacity in-game before. He was seeing it in person now.

An action scene played out on the screen, the Avengers fighting Loki. Nick didn’t mute the movie, and the explosions almost drowned out his voice. “Yeah. He says that.”

* * *

There were always more tournaments to play, and Sebastian threw himself into practice. It was easier, playing with the team—like losing a Major together and winning a Major together was enough for them to gel.

Blaine didn’t message him. Sebastian didn’t try to contact him either. It wasn’t that asking Blaine to play was futile—he suspected Blaine would agree if he asked. But he was busy now, preparing for the Major. He played pubs with Thad, the two of them comfortable and bickering together as they practiced new heroes and honed their skills. He played with Nick and Jeff hanging over his shoulder with snacks, bickering at each other over his head. He watched Beat play and laughed every time he cursed under his breath.

The Warblers worked—the five of them, together, worked. They were doing better and better in their scrims, they were playing well in online tournaments. The Minor was coming up—winner was automatically invited to the next Major—and Sebastian felt confident.

Thad said, “You’ll have to have time to practice with Blaine, if you’re going to get him in the team.”

“Want to quit that badly, Harwood?”

Thad just snorted.

But Sebastian wasn’t sure he wanted to get Blaine onto the team anymore.

They won the Minor, and looking at everybody’s expression as they accepted the trophy, Sebastian thought he could keep playing like this. Stay on the same team, stay together, weather the trials together to come out triumphant together.

But Blaine—Blaine, who shone so brightly, who was such a joy to play with. Blaine, who had been the best carry that Sebastian had ever played with—

Sebastian sat across from David, in the way they always did when David was having one-on-one sessions with them, to talk about anything from their personal problems to their gameplay.

“What did you want to talk about, Sebastian?”

It felt too quiet, sitting with just him and David. David looked the way he’d always looked, thoughtful yet cheerful, as if he could take all of their worries and turn them into success. In every other conversation, David had dragged Sebastian—sometimes bodily—into this position. But now Sebastian was here, willingly, having asked David to talk.

Sebastian said, “It’s about Blaine.”

David looked at him. He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “Blaine,” David echoed.

“He’s the best carry you guys ever played with.”

“No,” David said.

“If we recruit him—”

“Sebastian,” David interrupted. “You’ve been talking about this since you joined. But you had to have known that Blaine wasn’t in the picture when you joined.”

“I thought I was joining to play with Blaine.”

“You couldn’t have thought that we recruited you as a position 1 player when we already had one.”

He had known. And even though he had wondered if he was going to play with the notorious _killer_ that had given him the best pub game of his life, he had known that it wasn’t going to be the case. The Warblers would never have recruited him to be their position one carry if Blaine was still in the picture. The Warblers would never have taken him onto their team if Blaine was there.

“I’m not a replacement,” Sebastian finally said, and hearing the words, he felt something inside him tighten with anxiety.

“You never were.” David stood up, not comprehending. “I’m not going to listen to you come up with schemes with Thad and the others to try to bring Blaine back, Sebastian.”

“I thought you were here to listen to us.”

“No, I’m here to make this the best team possible.” David took a deep breath. “And I’m doing my job.”

But the best team had been with Blaine. And Sebastian couldn’t help but think about how Blaine played, how watching him had always seemed transcendent. He had wanted to be close to him, because it would make it easier to win, because Blaine was the best, and Sebastian hadn’t even made it to a TI, so how could he compare.

He’d wanted to recruit Blaine because he’d wanted Blaine there, in the carry position, shining brightly. He had wanted to be close, to support Blaine. He’d wanted to play with Blaine because he had wanted to reach that main stage at The International, and Blaine had been the only path forward.

How could David not understand.

“Blaine—”

“The best team wasn’t when Blaine was here.” His voice was gentle, and that was worse than if he was angry. “The best team is now, with you.”

* * *

New Directions were also at the Major.

It was to be expected. The top teams were shaking themselves out: Team Adrenaline, New Directions, The Warblers, Gamesplosion—they were top teams last year, and this year was no different. All of them were likely to go to The International, even if they didn’t make it through on points and had to fight their way through qualifiers instead. But none of them wanted to, and that meant that the Spring Major, the last major on the line, was their chance to make it.

Sebastian was getting coffee at the hotel breakfast when he was jostled by a particularly pointy elbow.

“Excuse you,” he drawled, his smirk widening when he saw the offender: Kurt Hummel, looking particularly peevish.

“What did you tell Blaine?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow back. “Really? I know us gamers aren’t known for our fashion sense, but combining stripes with leopard print is particularly tacky.”

Kurt glared. It did nothing to offset the fact he was wearing leopard print pants with a striped shirt, a team jacket thrown overtop to block the morning chill. “Answer the question, Smythe.”

“What makes you think I told him anything?” Sebastian smirked. “Trouble in paradise?”

He flushed, and before Sebastian could needle him further, Nick came over and slung an arm around Sebastian’s shoulders—he stretched a bit to reach, since Sebastian was too tall for him to do it comfortably—and said, “Did you get me any coffee, Sebastian? Hey, Kurt. How’s it going?”

Kurt said, “I see you’ve replaced Jeff.”

Nick laughed. “Jeff’s still waking up.” He snagged Sebastian’s coffee and took a sip, and Sebastian rolled his eyes before taking it back. “Somebody’s cranky this morning. Is Sebastian monopolizing the coffee machine?”

“There is literally another machine right next to this one,” Sebastian retorted as Nick tried to grab his coffee again. “Get your own.”

“It’s better when it’s yours,” Nick protested. He snagged Sebastian’s mug and began to walk away. “See you, Kurt! Good luck in group stages!”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and followed. When he got to the Warbler table, he rescued his coffee from Nick’s clutches, who hadn’t tried to drink anymore. “What was that about?”

“Don’t think you’d appreciate being cornered by Hummel first thing in the morning,” Thad, his own coffee safely in-hand, said.

“So you sent Nick?”

Thad said, “Well, _I_ didn’t want to deal with Hummel.”

“Kurt’s not that bad,” Nick began, before pausing at Thad and Sebastian’s identical raised eyebrows. “Okay, he’s pretty bad.”

“He was mad about something I said to Blaine.”

Thad poked his eggs. “Which was?”

“Beats me.”

“Actually, Beat is not you—” Nick began, only to stop at Sebastian’s glare.

Thad said, “Was it about trying to get Blaine to rejoin us?”

“I didn’t even say anything about it last time,” Sebastian said peevishly. “Hummel’s just got his panties in a twist.”

Jeff coughed, from where he had just walked up, still bleary eyed “I did not want to hear about Kurt Hummel’s panties before I got coffee.”

Beat, directly behind him, broke into delighted guffaws.

Sebastian sighed, and stared down at his half-empty cup of coffee. He was going to need a lot more, if he was going to be able to handle the day.

* * *

Tournaments were an endurance match. For a week, or even more, you had to remain focused on only one thing: Dota. Sebastian already lived and breathed Dota—he had to, in order to pursue this path as a professional player—but tournaments, LAN tournaments in particular, were something else.

Wes and David had been around in the early days—they had played the original Dota, when it was a Warcraft 3 mod, had flown to tournaments where the prize pool was a pittance, sleeping six to a hotel room, more than one of them on the floor. Compared to the early days, when esports was just beginning to exist, everything was luxurious now. A hotel for rooms and the group stages, playing the main event in a stadium. Prize pools that paid out.

But still, LANs were an endurance match.

Sebastian was tired before the group stages even started. David’s words echoed in his head— _the best team is now, with you_.

It should have been a reassurance; a sign that he had made it in the world. One of the top teams in the world, calling themselves a better team because he was on it. It should have been a good thing.

But when Sebastian sat down to play, he only felt emptiness.

When they ended for the day—Sebastian had pulled through, and they had won most of their games, but his play had been sloppy—Nick slung an arm around him and demanded dinner, dragging him away before he could do anything else. Jeff followed, while Thad and Beat fell into discussion with Wes and David. They went to a pub near the hotel that Jeff had Yelped while Nick chattered.

Burgers and fries ordered, Nick leaned forward. “Was Kurt that much of an asshole?”

Sebastian looked away from the basketball playing on the television. “What?”

Jeff said, “He’s wondering why you’re out of it.”

“Sebastian knew what I meant!”

“If you think he’s out of it, why would you ask him to interpret your esoteric language?”

“Oh, don’t be like that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just come out and ask Sebastian if anything’s wrong.”

Sebastian found himself smiling, even after the miserable play throughout two grueling best-of-two matches. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said.

Jeff eyed him. “You see, even I don’t believe that.”

Sebastian said, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to convince you.” He glanced at the basketball on the TV—a team had scored. People in the stadium were cheering. 

“Is this about your quest to get Blaine back?” Jeff asked.

“No.”

Nick said, “You see, I believe that.”

“I do too.” Jeff rolled his eyes. “So?”

“We’re a group of middle school girls, remember?” Nick said, cheerfully. “We gotta get our gossip in.”

“Are you going to blame me for any future losses if I don’t give you the ‘deets?’” It didn’t seem as funny when Sebastian had played like shit today, and David’s words echoed in his head.

Nick just grinned in answer.

Sebastian thought about the conversation the next day, as they sat down to play their next group stage match. They were in the same group as Gamesplosion, and this best-of-two was sure to be a bitter fight.

It was.

They lost. Both games.

It was only a group stage match—only important for seeding. They were already in the Major, they would be on the main stage soon enough, and even with the current situation, they were likely to finish high enough that they’d be in the upper bracket once the main event started. But Sebastian ground his teeth together all the same.

“GG,” Thad said. He slapped Sebastian on the shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Beat sighed, pulling off his own headset.

“Damn, they’re good,” Nick muttered, as Jeff shook his head.

Sebastian scrubbed a hand over his face, and grimaced.

David was frowning as he studied the screen—Defeat written out in lurid red. No doubt he was already thinking about the problems in Sebastian’s play.

“They’ve got a good grasp on this meta,” Wes said, neutrally. “We’ll study and discuss. Get some food.”

Sebastian went. Everything tasted awful, after defeat. 

They had a team discussion that evening, in preparation for their last few group stage matches. David talked about the teams they were playing tomorrow, and Sebastian could barely focus on the conversation. 

“You’re pretty out of it,” Thad said, when they got back to their room and got ready for bed.

“It’s a long day,” Sebastian retorted.

Thad snorted. “You’ll talk eventually,” he said, before turning to his own bed. He fiddled with his phone for a long time, scrolling through websites as the white light splashed across his face. Sebastian tried to relax, but he couldn’t seem to, something keeping him on-edge and antsy.

After an hour of trying to sleep—Thad was still browsing the internet—Sebastian got out of bed.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, a walk. You a babysitter in real life now?”

Thad just snorted. “Don’t stay out too late,” he said, sounding too much like the support player that babysat Sebastian in-lane for Sebastian’s comfort.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and, pocketing the hotel keycard in his sweatpants, went out as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. His head was in the fabric as he turned, and so when he collided with Blaine, he didn’t realize who he’d bumped into, and his muttered “Sorry,” was met with an incredulous laugh.

Blaine, his hair a riot of messy curls, in his own sweatpants and sweatshirt, looked exhausted. “I didn’t expect the first time you apologized to me would be for literally walking into me.”

Sebastian said, “Blaine.”

Blaine’s smile crinkled in the corner. “Coffee?” 

Wes would probably have something to say about drinking caffeine when Sebastian was supposed to be sleeping. David would probably say something about how a good night’s sleep was vital for playing a good game. 

“Sure.”

There was a coffee dispenser at the lobby, and they grabbed cups before retreating to some couches on the lower levels. “Couldn’t sleep?” Blaine settled across from him.

He shrugged. “You?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t tell me the great Blaine Anderson has nerves?”

Blaine’s smile was crooked. “Don’t tell.”

Sebastian sipped his coffee, less to drink and more to have something to do. “You don’t really.”

“I didn’t get nervous before.” He laughed. “I just don’t want to let Kurt down,” he confided. “They did a risky thing, letting me into their team.”

“What the fuck?”

Blaine blinked.

“What do you mean, letting you onto their team?”

“I mean…” Blaine looked away. “Kurt wanted to play with me. But they had a team, and it was a good team. Tina was a good support. She was kind of mad when I joined.”

“So she got kicked. People get kicked all the time.”

“Well, I mean.” Blaine shrugged. “She didn’t really think she was getting kicked when I left the Warblers.”

“What does that mean?”

Blaine finally met Sebastian’s eyes. “I mean that Kurt asked me to leave, and convinced New Directions to take me.”

“They shouldn’t have needed convincing.”

“They were a good team together.”

“Yeah, and you’re one of the best players I’ve ever seen, what do you mean they did a _risky thing_?”

Blaine took a breath. “They didn’t want me,” he said. “I didn’t want to kick Tina by joining—I didn’t know that was Kurt’s plan, and it took Tina a long time to realize that I thought there was a free position. Rachel thought I wanted her carry spot. Finn, well, he was worried I wanted his spot. Artie was mostly fine with it, but he was mad that I had messed up their team.”

“Why did you join?”

Blaine’s mouth twisted. It could have been called a smile, if it weren’t almost midnight, and they were sitting in the public areas of the hotel, both of them in sweatpants and sweatshirts. “Kurt asked me to,” he said. “He said that he couldn’t stand it if he had to play against me. He said that since we were dating, we should play on the same team.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Blaine blinked.

“Just because you’re dating doesn’t mean you’re stuck at the hip.”

“And how would you know?”

Sebastian stared down. Because dating somebody didn’t mean they were necessarily the best player. Dating somebody just—

How would that even work, in the team? Would you be able to be objective about mistakes, if you were dating somebody? Would it be easier or harder to blame the other person? How would the mistakes in the game, how would the pressure of the game bleed into the relationship?

Sebastian said, “Just because I haven’t dated, doesn’t mean I don’t know anything.”

Blaine said, ruefully, “You’re right.”

Sebastian said, “I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me.”

“Don’t get used to it.” His smile was tired. “But you’re right. And I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

He waited.

“I do miss them,” Blaine said, so quietly that Sebastian had to strain to hear it. “I miss the Warblers every day. They were the best team I could have asked for.” He said, “But I don’t know if I could tell Kurt that. I don’t know if Kurt could handle it, if I left New Directions.”

Sebastian said, “It shouldn’t matter.”

Blaine shook his head. “I’m in this until the end,” he said, and his voice was low. “No surrender button in Dota.”

And as Sebastian played through the next day of games, he thought about Blaine’s words. Even as everything went badly, he thought about Blaine, saying that there was no surrender. And so they played through, even when the games went badly, and whether they won or lost, he felt the exhaustion in Blaine’s voice in his own bones.

_I’m in this until the end._

Sebastian looked at the others on the team. Thad, Beat, Nick and Jeff. David and Wes.

Blaine had left this team. He had picked Kurt over them. But Sebastian was here—he had started this match on this team, and as Blaine said, there was no surrender button.

There were ways to get out faster; throw the game, grief the team. But Sebastian couldn’t do that. Not to this team. Not to Thad, one of the best supports Sebastian could have asked for. Not to Beat, whose map presence provided a critical foundation for the team. Not to Nick and Jeff, playing in their own lanes, but coming together for teamfights, their back and forth banter fading as they got serious but their camaraderie never doing so. No, he was in this team, and he was staying in this team.

This team. Whether Blaine was in it or not.

 _I’m in this until the end_ , he thought, and sat down to focus.

* * *

They left with a top-three finish. It wasn’t the result they wanted, but it was good enough to qualify for The International. Considering how the tournament had started, Sebastian was satisfied enough. They were going forward. He was going forward, with the Warblers.

Sebastian flung himself into his bed once they got back, glad to be done with the last Major before The International. They’d qualified, and that meant that they were going to Seattle for the biggest tournament. A week of group stages, a week of main event, and the winner would take home what would undoubtedly be a massive prize pool again.

Last year, he hadn’t even made it to The International.

He’d thought he had a good team—top EU free agents, banding together for a real attempt at the qualifier. He had thought he would have been enough to lead the team to victory. Instead, they’d lost in the qualifiers, and Sebastian had watched The International from his bedroom in Paris, frowning at the screen.

But he would be going to Seattle in August.

There was a new patch, and there were balance changes. They spent hours discussing the changes and practicing in anticipation of The International. The tournament itself was its own beast—when all of the teams came together during the group stages, the tournament meta would shake itself out. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t work to be done to prepare. It didn’t mean that Sebastian wasn’t spending his days playing scrims, his evenings listening to Beat swear under his breath as he practiced.

He wasn’t going to be playing with Blaine, but he didn’t think that mattered anymore.

Thad kicked the wheels of his chair as he walked by. Sebastian turned. “What?”

“Making sure you haven’t died,” Thad retorted. He jerked his chin at the screen. “You’ve been staring at the same reddit page for _hours_.”

“Only twelve minutes,” Nick corrected from his own chair. “Ow!” He rubbed his arm where Jeff had leaned over to swat it.

“Just thinking.”

Nick made a delighted ooh sound. “About Blaine?”

“No.”

“Damn.” Nick sank back into his chair, disappointed. “I had twenty bucks on that.”

“Did you really?”

Nick shrugged, pulling a twenty from his wallet and slapping it into Jeff’s hand, who took it with only a little smugness. Sebastian watched the exchange with only a little horror. “Are you betting on me?”

“Just on whether or not you’re still thinking about Blaine,” Nick reassured. It wasn’t reassuring. “Not on _you_.”

Sebastian exchanged exasperated glances with Thad. 

“Speaking of Blaine,” Nick continued.

“I talked to him. At the Major.”

Nick said, “Oooh.” Jeff straightened up. Thad blinked, twice, and Beat pulled off one ear of his headset to listen in even as he continued his game.

“A team of teenaged girls,” Sebastian said.

“That’s us,” Nick agreed.

“He’s not going to leave New Directions,” Sebastian said. He spread his hands out. “He’s committed to them. But—” He had wanted to play with Blaine. It was all he had wanted. Had wanted. Had. “That’s fine.”

Thad raised a brow. “Not going to talk about how Blaine’s the best carry player we’ve ever had?”

“He was,” Sebastian said. “But he wasn’t the best because of himself.” The words stuck in his throat, and he ached to swallow them down. “He was the best because of you guys.”

Nick froze, too shocked to let out another delighted coo. Jeff blinked, unsure what to say. Beat swore, a quiet _fuck_ , that could have been referring to his game of Sebastian’s words. And Thad looked at him, and the edge of his mouth curved into a smile.

“You’re not bad yourself, Smythe,” Thad said. He jerked his chin forward. Nick nodded, Jeff hmming beside him. 

“Fuck,” Beat said again.

“We’re trying to have a moment here!” Nick called, grinning. “You could try to at least play along.”

“I’m in a fucking game!” Beat shouted back. “You should have waited to have your team moment after I won.”

“Looks more like you’re losing,” Jeff observed.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Thad peered over, taking in the game state. “Oh, yeah, you fucked up.”

“Fuck you, Harwood. I’m blaming this carry. Sebastian would have been able to make it work. Hell, even Nick would have.”

“Wow.” Nick pressed a hand over his chest. “What did I do to you, Beat?”

Beat hissed, “Played like shit,” before clicking furiously as a team fight broke out on his screen.

Sebastian studied them—this team that he had joined, this team that he had become a part of, and said, “We’re going to TI.”

“Yeah,” Thad said, turning away from Beat’s computer to look back at Sebastian. “We’re going.”

It was a moment where they should have put their hands together and shouted something encouraging. Instead, Beat snapped, “Fuck!” as his hero died and his team lost the team fight, and Nick and Jeff devolved into cheerful heckling at Beat’s play. Thad turned, distracted by the noise and added a scathing comment or two about Beat’s poor play, how could he not win an unfavorable match-up with a team of pubs pulling him down, a smirk on the edge of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, watching them. _No surrender in Dota._ “We’re going.”

* * *

“Let’s talk about The International.”

It felt like that was all they talked about. As the biggest tournament of the season loomed, all of their energies focused on it. Wes sent them all their e-tickets to Seattle; they were going earlier for all of the required media that was being produced. They’d have some vacation time afterwards. Sebastian thought he might go back to Paris and visit his mother. But he didn’t put much thought into it—vacation time could wait for after the biggest tournament of the year.

The Battle Pass had been announced already, and the prize pool was growing at an extraordinary rate as people purchased the Compendium and levels for it. Portions of the proceeds from the Compendium—a digital assortment of goodies to accompany the biggest tournament of the year—as well as levels to level-up said Compendium—all contributed to the prize pool. Sebastian had his own Compendium already, with an excessive amount of levels, since all he did was play Dota anyways. Still, the announcement of the Compendium marked a turning point, as everything hurtled towards The International.

The International was the biggest Dota tournament of the year. After the first one-million dollar prize pool at the first TI, which had taken everybody off guard, the endeavor had only grown. The prize pools were topping twenty-million now, with the first place victors taking the lion’s share of the prize pool.

They had qualified already, which meant that they were already taking home money. Just making it to the International got you money. But it was more than money at stake. The International was the biggest tournament, and winning it meant you were the best team.

Sebastian had always wanted to be the best.

Now he wanted the Warblers to be the best team.

As they sat down to analyze the replay of their latest scrim, Sebastian caught Wes’ eye. He smiled, just a little thing, and turned back to the TV where David had their replay going. 

“You’re a good fit,” Wes said after the analysis had ended. “You’re a good part of this team.”

The words came out before Sebastian could stop them. “Better than Blaine was?”

Wes said, “No.”

Sebastian blinked.

“You’re not better than Blaine,” Wes said, and Sebastian remembered that Wes had been one of the people who had mentored Blaine into the player he was now. “But you’re not worse than him.”

Wes had been one of the old guard, one of the players who had started out in the original Dota and moved to Dota 2. Unlike Sebastian, who had started his career with Dota 2, Wes was storied, with a history that gave him a breadth of experience and knowledge.

“When Blaine played, this was a different team. You weren’t the right fit for that team. But this isn’t that team anymore.”

Wes clapped a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“This is your team now, Sebastian.” He said, “Now, all you have to do is play.”

Sebastian met Wes’ gaze. This was the man who had played at the first International, back when half of the teams thought the tournament was a scam, because how could the prize pool be _one million dollars_. This was the man who had played tournaments with prize pools of twenty dollars, sleeping on the floor of hotel rooms to save money. This was the man who had founded the team, and was still here, nurturing the team in hopes of that elusive TI victory.

“And win,” Sebastian said.

Wes shook his head. “Just play.” He squeezed Sebastian’s shoulder. “Play, Sebastian.”

* * *

The International was always a time of change.

Everything for the past year led up to The International. It was the biggest, most prestigious tournament. Players and talent from all around the world gathered, everybody concentrated around one hub that would live and breathe Dota for a little over two weeks. And in the end, there would be one victorious team. They would come back a year later to do it again. But despite this, The International was a time of change. Game changes, balance changes, team changes.

The group stages had barely started, but there were already whispers in the hallways about potential shuffles, players being courted secretly and openly about potentially joining teams. Nothing would be more than murmurs or whispers until teams started getting eliminated and TI dreams were dashed. Once teams got eliminated, the whispered would grow in volume until they became talks, and talks became negotiations as players tried to build the best team to win The International.

Sebastian had just finished a game with the Warblers and was pacing out some of his excess adrenaline when he saw Blaine.

He was standing alone, fiddling with his phone. He had earbuds in his ears, and it sounded like he was listening to music.

_I didn’t get nervous before._

He should leave Blaine alone. He should let Blaine work through his problems on his own. But Sebastian still walked to him, standing at the edge of Blaine’s peripheral vision and letting him decide if he wanted to talk.

Blaine smiled. “Sebastian.” He pulled an earbud out.

“Blaine.”

“Did you finish playing?”

Sebastian nodded. “Won our first game. Taking a walk before the second.”

“Good luck.”

“What about you?”

“Oh.” Blaine looked away. “It was close.”

That sounded like defeat. But it was just the group stages. There were plenty of games left to determine seeding, and New Directions were going to make it to the main stage. They weren’t likely to fall now.

Blaine hesitated, for a second, before he said, “You were right.”

“That’s the second time you said it.”

Blaine said, “The Warblers were my family.” He paused. “I’m not—it’s not that I want to kick you. I’m not saying that. I’m not trying to take your spot.”

“Wait.” He held up a hand. “What are you saying.”

The words came out in a rush, “I’m leaving New Directions.”

“What?”

Blaine’s face was very steady. “I’ve been doing some thinking. You were right about a lot of things, Sebastian. I wanted you to know before you heard it from the rumor mill.”

“So you’re telling me? You know how much the boys gossip.”

He smiled. “Yeah. I do. But you won’t tell.”

He promised, “I won’t.”

“I love Kurt,” Blaine said. “I loved him.”

He met Sebastian’s gaze, and Sebastian saw the game state. There was no surrender button in Dota. But. “Games end,” Sebastian finally said.

“Sometimes, they end in defeat,” Blaine agreed.

Sebastian was quiet.

“I think, playing with Kurt made it clear.” His voice was quiet, but steady. “I think, playing with you made it clear.”

“I’m not leaving the Warblers,” Sebastian said, and the words surprised him. “Not even if it means I get to play with you.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to.” Blaine closed his eyes. “I’m going to start a team,” he said. “Tina’s going to play support for me. Trent—he subbed for the Warblers a few times, and I used to play pubs with him—he’s agreed he wants to try it for good. I’ll figure out the rest. There’ll be a lot of free agents soon.”

“What brought this on?”

Blaine smiled. He didn’t quite look like the _killer_ Sebastian had played all of those games in Paris might have looked, and he didn’t look like the _songbird_ Sebastian had gotten to know this year. He looked like something different, like a _nightbird_ , a hero burning bright and steady. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if Blaine was going to change is in-game name again. “I’d like a chance to play with you,” he said. “Carry against carry.”

“Dota is a team game.”

“Yeah.” His grin was bright. “You’ve got quite the team, but I’m not going to let that stop me.” Blaine offered a hand. 

Sebastian took it. “You’re on, Anderson.”

Blaine squeezed, and Sebastian squeezed back. It felt like a promise. Their hands interlinked, Blaine stepped in, close for an embrace, and he said, “Thank you, Sebastian.”

“For what?”

Blaine’s eyes closed. He smiled. “For reminding me of something very important.” When he stepped back, he was more than the boy that Sebastian had admired, that year in Paris, over the internet. He was a boy who got nervous because he didn’t want to let his team down. He was one of the best carries in the world. He was transcendent, and Sebastian looked at him and thought he could love this boy. “Good luck in the tournament.”

“Have fun,” Sebastian replied. Their hands lingered before they pulled away.

“And Sebastian,” Blaine added, before he went back to his room. “Let’s get some coffee sometime. You and me.”

Games ended. New games started. Not all games had to end in defeat. Some ended in victory.

“You sure about that?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine smiled back. “No,” he said. “But let’s try it anyways. You don’t have to be on the same team to date.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Anderson.”

* * *

The crowd was roaring in his ears as he stepped on stage. His name flashed on the screen, the fans in the audience screaming, raucous applause filling his ears. His heart seemed to patter in time with the sound of it.

When he settled into the soundproof booth, the noise settled into a dull roar. 

“You got this.” David clapped his shoulder, leaning over them in preparation for the game. Wes was backstage, watching the game from monitors. But Thad was beside him, Jeff and Nick on the other end of the booth, Beat close enough that he could hear the muttered profanity through the dull roar of the audience.

Sebastian looked at the team. “Yeah,” he said. “We do.” 

With the sound of the horn, the game started. And Sebastian settled into the game, into the ebb and flow of his team supporting him, into carrying his team forward, to whatever the result would be. And in the end, they played a good game, and they played well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This wraps up Seblaine week 2020 for me. It was very fun to write all of these fics.
> 
> Want more in this 'verse? You're in luck! The sequel to this fic was posted earlier this week: To Support To Grow.
> 
> Curious about Dota 2? Feel free to hit me up and I'll be happy to tell you about the game, the pro-gaming scene, and all of the [amazing memes](https://dota2.gamepedia.com/Memes), several of which are referenced in this series.
> 
> ❤️ Enjoyed it? Try the following options:
> 
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